


Uprooted

by RavenZaiyo



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski, Witcher - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Angst, Battle of the Bands, Comedy, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eskel is a genius and a saint, Explicit Sexual Content, Found Family, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Apologizes, Inspired by Music, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Lambert Being a Little Shit (The Witcher), Lambert Needs a Hug (The Witcher), M/M, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Past Jaskier | Dandelion/Valdo Marx, Past Lambert/Keira mentioned, Romantic Comedy, Skippable Sexual Content, Soft Eskel (The Witcher), Sweet Eskel (The Witcher), Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Tension, basically "problem kids" in foster care are made into witchers, trans!Jaskier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:46:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 77,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24386923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenZaiyo/pseuds/RavenZaiyo
Summary: Jaskier had been doing his best. Heartbreak and depression had given him the songs he'd played to take his career higher and higher-- until his band broke apart. Now alone, he's offered a job to manage the band of the man who broke his heart.The challenge of being a folk singer managing a heavy metal band may carry Jaskier into new discoveries, the least of them about music. Living on a tour bus with Lambert, Eskel, Geralt, and Vesemir is full of challenges and annoyances-- but perhaps something more can come from this. Healing, friendship... and maybe a love that blooms so slowly and naturally that it swallows them whole.
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert, Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Vesemir, Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert
Comments: 312
Kudos: 262
Collections: Polyamorous Relationships For the Win





	1. New Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PrettyDemonBoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyDemonBoy/gifts), [rawrkinjd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rawrkinjd/gifts).



> Hey, guys, I'm working a lot but this story is actually motivating me a bit. Also, I'm currently making myself cry over songs again, which means I'm writing sad shit. So be ready for that in the future. In the meantime, let's get into the meat and potatoes of this story, shall we? 
> 
> I swear, if anything doesn't make sense, it will become clearer in the next couple chapters. I'm writing this mostly for the comedy aspect, so I hope it comes across well.
> 
> To PrettyDemonBoy: Thank you for helping me get into this fandom, for letting me bounce ideas off of you.  
> To rawrkinjd: Thank you for writing such amazing eskel/lambert/jaskier/geralt stuff and inspiring me to do the same.
> 
> To everyone else, please go read their stuff, both of them write lovely stuff, and are genuinely sweet people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7/29/20 EDIT NOTES: Continuity issues; story has changed throughout writing from how originally imagined. This is a good thing. Will add in extra tidbits for anyone chancing a reread. Enjoy!

Jaskier felt his stomach rise up his throat, and he swallowed it down. Like a throatful of bees, however, it was only a matter of time before it came back up with more sting than before.

The crowd was big. Bigger than he’d anticipated. Triss had outdone herself, but she had a habit of doing that. Once upon a time, she hadn’t been used to the eyes on her like Jaskier had, and he’d encouraged her time and time again until she was more natural on the stage than off. She was twirling the bow of her violin, her cute, hippie-like maxi skirt waving as she bopped her hips around to the opener’s songs.

Jaskier looked at her, watched her. It was calming compared to the sea of eyes he’d be facing soon. This was too much. He wasn’t ready for this. Playing for a small coffee shop was one thing, he could work a crowd better in small doses. A whole venue though?

Jaskier noticed he was clenching onto his backing tape too hard and loosened his grip. It fell to the floor and he hissed, ducking to grab it. In the action, his mandolin in his other hand knocked against the ground. He swore.

He had Triss’s attention now. She gave him a sweet and knowing look. “It’ll be okay.” She told him. “We’re gonna be frickin’ awesome.” She stopped the twirl of her bow and balanced it on the middle of her palm, still bouncing from side to side.

“Triss… I--”

“It’s not your fault he flaked on us. You were better at playing his bit anyway, and the recording will be fine. No one will know about him. They’ll see me, they’ll see you. And you know it always starts like this.” She sighed dreamily. “It’s like the top of a rollercoaster. This is just a… bigger drop.”

Jaskier groaned. “A bigger drop. _Exactly_.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile was kind. She finally quit playing with her bow and set it and her violin down. Her chunky heels clopped on the floor as she paced over to him, putting her hands on his shoulders. “This is what we’ve been waiting for. What _you’ve_ been waiting for. Don’t let Valdo’s stupid decisions take that away from you. I know I’m not.”

Jaskier nodded, looking down. The bees in his stomach began to rise again.

She tousled his hair. “I have a few extra friends in the crowd tonight. Maybe a few you know.”

That was an odd thing for her to say. Jaskier _knew_ everyone, relatively speaking. For her to say this specifically, it must be something significant. But the almost apologetic set to her eyes made him realize it wasn’t someone he’d be happy to see. “I, uhm… It was before Valdo split, I told him to come and see. He’s got a band, too, said he’d drop us a line with some friends in higher places if he thought we were worth it.” She smirked. “I know we're worth it though. So as long as you don’t hate me when you see him. Just… I don’t know… ignore him or sing really damn good just to spite him--”

“Who is it.” Jaskier had no inflection. “Don’t let me go out there, see a face in the crowd that shouldn’t be there, and lose my stage persona.”

“He _made_ your stage persona.” She said. “Show him what he’s missing.”

Jaskier’s stomach was no longer rising. It was sinking, threatening to drop out of his asshole at mach ten speed. He managed not to drop tape or mandolin, but he couldn’t force the name of the man through his bloodless lips.

As the opener band got their last cheer in, Triss tugged him by the shoulder. “Better to ask for forgiveness than permission, right?” She giggled nervously. “But, it’s like I said. This will either be your best performance ever, or the very worst.”

“Yea…” Jaskier stared onto the stage, feeling as if it were getting closer and closer. Oh, he was walking. That’s why.

The opener’s singer was smiling, and clapped Jaskier on the shoulder. “Good luck, man, they’re primed and ready. You could _shit_ into the mic and they’ll still cheer.”

 _I fucking might._ Jaskier realized.

“Time for the drop.” Triss sighed, joining him as he walked out.

Jaskier’s eyes searched the crowd. He didn’t see him-- no mane of white hair, no piercing amber eyes. No Geralt. He felt the bees return. That was preferable. Triss must have lied about Geralt. Must have known the relief of him not showing up would cover his nerves. She was simultaneously the best and the worst.

The tape went into the set. Triss took her place, leaned to her mic and interacted. “Hey, guys, how ya doin toniiiiight? Everyone got enough to drink?” Where the hell had she got a stein of beer and why the hell was she slugging it? The crowd cheered and raised theirs in answer. “Anyone seen us before?” There were a few cheers this time, people from the old coffee shop. She fanned herself. “I see some of you sweethearts. Thank you, babes!”

Jaskier felt the rush, realizing that Triss had done Valdo’s part as well as her own. It was his turn now. “As for those of you who haven’t seen us before-- we are Quarter Stream. And we’re gonna show you what we’ve got.”

Oh, Jaskier was so glad he had practiced so much. He hid under his stage persona, his false confidence, and he nodded to Triss, hitting start on the track and making sure his earset was on right before he started the first bit of his most comfortable song. It always made him forget there was a crowd, forget there was anything but the music as it crawled from his fingertips.

The music tasted like autumn, like a chilly evening over red leaves. Old cars and hay rides. Nostalgia, but the memory it tugged at was never there.

They had no percussion, but they never had. They knew what they were working with, and the rhythm of the song was enough to get them the support of the crowd. The backing track started up, they’d both stomp the song out a bit, and they would harmonize. Without Valdo, they were missing that little extra, but Jaskier had recorded it, layered it with his own playing, his own voice. He reminded himself that he could always trust his own voice more than Valdo, especially now.

The audience took a little convincing, but they seemed to enjoy it. Even if Jaskier and Triss were hesitant coming out, they bled into the song as if it were natural. When In Rome was a good song to start with. It was fun to play, and if they were having fun, usually the audience would too.

_**Where can a sick man go when he can’t choke down the medicine the old doc knows?** _   
_**A specialist came to town, but he stays at home** _   
_**Saying “They don’t know, so I don’t, Honey, When In Rome.”** _

_**Where can a teacher go? Wherever she thinks people need the things she knows** _   
_**Hey those books you gave us look good on the shelves at home** _   
_**And they’ll burn warm in the fireplace, Teacher, When In Rome.** _

_**Grab a blanket, sister, we’ll make smoke signals** _   
_**Bring us some new blood, it feels like we’re alone** _   
_**Grab a blanket, brother, so we don’t catch cold from one another** _   
_**I wonder if we’re stuck in Rome** _

_**Where can a dead man go?** _   
_**A question with an answer only dead men know** _   
_**But I’m gonna bet they never really feel at home** _   
_**If they spent a lifetime learning how to live in Rome** _

Lyrics done, they jammed it out, playing their hearts out. Jaskier went up on his toes, settling back down on the balls of his feet, head rolling back, face clenching and unclenching with the actions and looking like he was fucking the music. Or having a seizure.

He didn't care how he looked, he'd heard it all. What mattered was how all the worry had melted away, there was only the music, the strings screaming into the amps.

And people keeping time with their hands.

As the song ended, the applause was earsplitting. Jaskier felt relief mount on him but this was the first song of a forty-five minute set. He had to pace himself, not blow his load in the first song, so to speak.

Already the high was buzzing through his veins. His legs felt like jelly and the bees in his stomach turned into frantic moths.

Jaskier lived for this feeling, this euphoria, the adrenaline, and the live energy of working the crowd. Comparing it to the drop of a roller coaster wasn't too far off, and the momentum carried him almost recklessly into the next song. And the next. And the next.

He exchanged the tape for the second one and drank an entire bottle of water in one go, praying he didn't accidentally belch into the microphone later as he had once or twice before.

It was time for a personal favorite song of his. It was still as raw as ever, a song he wrote at one of his lowest points. It was one of the oldest, but it never got old.

"Now, this next song," he started. "I was asked to rename it. What was it, again?" He prompted Triss. "What did they want me to call it?"

"The Onion Cutter." Triss laughed, half drunk from alcohol, wholly drunk from the stage.

Some cheers of recognition went up in the crowd, and Jaskier pointed to them, "As this song is about neither onions nor cutting, the original title still stands. This is the story of a lighthouse."

More cheers went up as he hit play and launched into the song. Triss scrambled for a second before joining, earning a healthy laugh from the crowd.

_**I am a lighthouse, worn by the weather and the waves. I keep my lamp lit to warn the sailors on their way.** _   
_**I'll tell a story, paint you a picture from my past. I was so happy, but joy in this life seldom lasts.** _

_**I had a keeper. He helped me warn the ships at sea. And we had grown closer, until his joy meant everything to me.** _   
_**He was to marry a girl who shone with beauty and light. And they loved each other, and with me watched the sunsets into nights.** _

_**And the waves crash in around me.** _   
_**And the sand slips out to the sea.** _   
_**And the winds that blow remind me of what has been… and what can never be.** _

_**She had to leave us. My keeper prayed for her safe return. But when the night came, the weather to a raging storm had turned.** _   
_**We watched her ship fight, but in vain against the wild and terrible waves. In me so helpless, as dashed against the rocks she met her end.** _

_**And the waves crash in around me.** _   
_**And the sand slips out to the sea.** _   
_**And the winds that blow remind me of what has been… and what can never be.** _

_**Then on the next day, my keeper found her washed up on the shore. He kissed her cold face, and that they'd be together soon he swore.** _   
_**I saw him crying, and watched as he buried her in the sand.** _

_**And then he climbed my tower, and off the edge of me he ran.** _

_**And the waves crash in around me.** _   
_**And the sand slips out to the sea.** _   
_**And the winds that blow remind me of what has been… and what can never be.** _

_**I am a lighthouse, worn by the weather and the waves. And though I'm empty, I still warn the sailors on their way.** _

As the last note resonated, there was a moment of silence before scattered applause turned into a cacophony. Jaskier felt a smile break on his face, a relieving balm over an old wound.

When Jaskier turned to pause the tape, he caught green eyes peering at him from backstage, but the light made it difficult to make out much of the person. Jaskier was hot and a bit sweaty from the lights, and told himself he'd bother with the eyes later. That stare continued to bore into him, but Jaskier lied and said it was no different than the sea of eyes ahead of him.

He went to the mic as the applause died down. "Thank you guys so much. Do we have any requests, to take the edge off?"

There was some silence before a couple of the regulars banded together to shout over the crowd. Jaskier's brow cinched. "Sorry, what?"

They yelled again, "Coffee Shop!"

Jaskier bit his cheek. That wasn't on the tape and it was a song Valdo usually did with Triss while he hydrated in the back. He shrugged, "I'm sorry, sweethearts, I don't have a guitar today."

Triss made a noise, off mic, but Jaskier turned to look at her as she walked off the stage toward the green eyed stranger. She came back with a big smile and a steel stringed acoustic guitar.

She handed it to Jaskier.

He glared at the guitar. At Triss. At the shadows with the green eyes.

There was a stylized lark woodburned into the body of the guitar. On the fretboard, the word STEEL was engraved.

It felt too warm in Jaskier's hands, and he swallowed before pasting his smile back on and clearing his throat and leaning to the microphone. "Nevermind."

He licked his lips and looked out to the crowd. "Cheers to our _friend_ backstage." He got onto a stool while Triss pulled another mic stand over and adjusted it to pick up the guitar.

He strummed experimentally before settling into the song.

_**I think that possibly, maybe I'm falling for you.** _   
_**Yes, there's a chance that I'm falling quite hard over you.** _   
_**I've seen the paths that your eyes travel down. I wanna come too.** _   
_**I think that possibly, maybe I'm falling for you.** _

_**No one understands me quite like you do, through all of those shadowy corners of me.** _

_**I never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop I love so much.** _   
_**All of the while, I never knew…** _

Now Triss joined the song, her voice sweet as she sung the next part before he joined for a striking harmony in the second chorus.

_**I think it's possible, maybe I've fallen for you.** _   
_**Yes, there's a chance that I've fallen quite hard over you.** _   
_**I've seen the waters that make your eyes shine, now I'm shining too.** _   
_**Because, oh, because, I've fallen quite hard over you.** _

_**If I didn't know you, I'd rather not know.** _   
_**If I couldn't have you, I'd rather be alone.** _

_**I never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop I love so much.** _   
_**All of the while, I never knew…** _   
_**I never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop I love so much.** _   
_**All of the while, I never knew…** _   
_**All of the while, I never knew it was you.** _

Jaskier had never really been the biggest fan of the song, but he knew Triss loved it and so did the regulars. After the song, he busied himself with downing another water bottle. He was gonna need to piss soon.

He looked over to Triss. "One more and then I give you a solo?" He spoke away from the mic. She nodded.

One turned to two turned to three and Jaskier finally said enough was enough and went to the bathroom. Triss was good for a bit, playing an energetic tune and dancing, getting the crowd involved, stomping and clapping. She was amazing.

Jaskier had left Steel on the stage next to the barstool. He knew its owner would be pissed, and part of Jaskier relished that.

Speaking of the devil, Jaskier had been putting off his urgent bladder needs because he didn't want to face him. Through sheer willpower and spite, he managed not to look at the man in the shadows with the black wig and the green contacts--

\--but when he realized there was More Than One large, hulking figure standing backstage, he suddenly felt hunted, and feared that putting off the need to pee might backfire spectacularly. He blinked at them all before making a strange face and walking way too quickly and woodenly to the bend past them, where he broke into a jog.

In the bathroom, Jaskier stared in the mirror as he washed his hands. He still had that awkward, strained look on his face, and he tried to scrub it off with cold water.

He wasn't a fool, unless you asked anyone but him. He knew who the men were, but that didn't make it any better.

He could hear the music from here. He would have to hurry or else Triss was going to have to wing it. He didn't want to put her out like that. That meant sprinting through a room full of scary looking men, one of whom more or less broke his heart. No big deal.

Jaskier thought back to Triss's words before the show. _He **made** your stage persona. Show him what he's missing._

No big _fucking_ deal.

* * *

Triss was exhausted by time Jaskier reached the stage. Pleasantly so, he hoped. It was okay, she was about to get a break.

She was still shaking from the performance as she gave him a hug in passing. He whispered to her, "Got a solo song, go drink some water."

She scoffed at him, ruffled his hair. "Have fun following that one."

He smiled at her, but it felt wrong. Wicked. "Oh. I will."

He sat down with the guitar and spoke sweetly into the mic. "Let's hear it again for Merigold!" He watched her walk offstage fondly before turning back to the crowd.

"You guys are stuck with me for a minute. Got a song for you guys. Don't think I've played it in years, so this should be fun for all of us. Then we'll run Merigold back out here and we'll finish the night off nicely. Thank you guys so much for coming out here, for supporting us."

He grinned down at the guitar. He was about to _beat the shit out of it_. "This one's called Jester."

_**Like a jester at the ball, rub my shoulders with the kings.** _   
_**And I was draped in gold and velvet, bathing in applause while I was jumping through the rings.** _   
_**And then the cooks would sound a bell, And all the kings would lick their lips.** _   
_**But I couldn't find a placemat, the dinner table's full and there's no room for me to sit.** _

_**Is there anybody out there looking out for me?** _   
_**Just say you want me, just say you need me** _   
_**Is there anybody out there looking out for me?** _   
_**Does anybody need me?** _   
_**Is every last soul just fucking me over?** _   
_**With tears on their shoes and ice on their shoulders** _   
_**Is there anybody out there looking out for me?** _

_**Lord, I live to entertain. All my pride is in my praise.** _   
_**I hum along with this vibration and hope to God I make it, mmh.** _   
_**If any chord that I could strum made me feel less like a man,** _   
_**I'd slam my fingers in the doorway and shatter all the bones so I could never strum again.** _

_**Is there anybody out there looking out for me?** _   
_**Just say you want me, just say you need me** _   
_**Is there anybody out there looking out for me?** _   
_**Does anybody need me?** _   
_**Is every last soul just fucking me over?** _   
_**With tears on their shoes and ice on their shoulders** _   
_**Is there anybody out there looking out for me** **?** _

Jaskier put all his resentment, his old bitterness, into the song, and hammered out the pulse upon the strings as he played. Fuck Geralt and his guitar. He could stick the guitar up his ass and use it for a pogo stick for all he cared. Press the frets with his asshair and strum with his cock.

But that wasn't true. Even after years, Jaskier couldn't fool himself. Back when they'd met, when Jaskier was trying to open doors for Geralt, trying to help him make friends in high places so he could achieve his ambitions, when he developed so many _feelings_ he didn't fucking ask for…

He became the fool. He played himself. He did it well. And the moment Geralt made it clear his assistance wasn't needed or even wanted, Jaskier tried so fucking hard to not care anymore. For a while he managed to convince himself.

But despite the bitterness, despite the pain, he couldn't pretend that Triss was wrong. He still cared too much, that's why he wrote the songs he did. That's why the guitar burned in his hands. Geralt had built Jaskier's career without even knowing it, crafted his attitude. Hell, he'd put the roughness into his voice.

But for all Geralt meant to him before, Jaskier told himself all he was was just a muse. And that was enough.

Triss came back out and they finished out the set together. They needed something with good energy, and his voice was rasping with the edge of overuse. He gave the signal, and Triss nodded back. The very last track he'd prepared, with extra vocals, and-- shocker!-- an actual drum track. Triss had helped him write this song, and he loved the extra layer her vocals gave it.

_**I get lost, messed up, and bored when I'm alone too long   
** _ _**I can't sleep, function, or eat when I'm not with someone   
Late last fall she ended it all and moved to who knows where    
Just like that she vanished and packed, and never even called  ** _

_**Do you feel a certain sense of synergy between yourself and me?   
A kind of macabre and somber wondertwin type of harmony?  ** _

_**What if it was you?  
You that I needed all along?   
I felt it like a fool    
Kicking and screaming and pretending we were wrong  ** _

_**Let's get wrecked on pop-tarts and sex and see the Taj Mahal  
Let's save birds from Prince William Sound and skateboard through the mall    
Let's fight crime with mangos and limes and join the PGA    
Let's win big with every spin, but hurry I can't wait  ** _

_**Do you spend a fortune on those late night pre-paid television scams?   
In search of the perfect blender, steak knife, and non-stick frying pan?  ** _

_**What if it was you?  
You that I needed all along?    
I felt it like a fool    
Thinking we were completely wrong ** _

_** It seemed like a dream, a beautiful scream, that echoed forever    
And made us not afraid to feel a thing    
And after it ends, we'll try to be friends    
They say that what doesn't kill us makes us who we are    
All this time and everything's changed but I still feel the same    
All good things eventually end and get washed down the drain    
What a disaster it would be if you discovered that I cared    
A little too much for friends but not enough to share  ** _

_**What if it was you?  
You that I needed all along?    
I felt it like a fool    
Now that I'm sure that I was wrong  ** _

_****It had to be you  
It had to be you   
It had to be you   
I knew it was you_

Jaskier almost forgot about the unwelcome presences in the back and got lost in his well-deserved ovation. Triss seemed on edge, drinking yet another serving of cheap beer.

That made two of them now.

Surprisingly, Jaskier went backstage to the sound of enthusiastic clapping. An older man who looked like a less approachable Sam Elliot was all over the two of them, and it took Jaskier a moment to figure out who the hell he was. The golden eyes gave him away as one of the Hard Ones, and if he was in Geralt’s company--

"Name's Vesemir." He said at last, nearly crushing Jaskier's hand in his own and giving an enthusiastic, if stiff, shake. Jaskier had the urge to roll his shoulder after that, but held off, holding the old man’s golden gaze. "Got dragged down here, but I'm glad I came. Damn good voice you got, there. Sounded like home."

Jaskier perked up at that. But then one of the others made a horrible noise. "Sounded like home, alright. Miserable as shit."

The man sitting next to him elbowed him. "He's mad because he cried over a lighthouse."

"You fucking liar!"

Vesemir turned to them. "Lambert, be nice."

"Fuck you. It sucked."

Vesemir pinched the bridge of his nose. "Eskel?"

The larger fellow next to Lambert moved as if to cover his mouth.

"No, let him talk." Jaskier said. “Maybe I can find some feedback somewhere in there.”

"Now I don't wanna talk." Lambert sassed, and Jaskier noted he had a tongue ring. He almost expected him to stick his tongue out. As it was, Lambert was manspreading so heavily it almost looked like parody. Arms crossed, slouched to the point of laying in the seat.

Vesemir hitched an eyebrow at Jaskier, who smiled back. "So what brings you here, Mr. Vesemir?"

His shoulders rose with a grunt. Amusement? "Well, I'm here to offer you a job."

Jaskier frowned, looked at Triss, who was pointedly looking elsewhere. "I… was unaware I needed another one."

Triss took a deep breath before grabbing Jaskier's arm, pulling him over for a small amount of privacy. "I told you all of this was before Valdo flaked, right?"

"Triss, what's going on?"

"I… may have a second band. That's about to go on tour. Overseas."

Jaskier's eyes lit up. "That's great! When are you going? Who are they? _Why didn't you tell me_?"

She smiled, obviously relieved that he was supportive first, aggravated second. "I was going to, but then Valdo, and… I didn't know how to bring it up… and…"

Jaskier remembered her words before the concert. "Better to ask for forgiveness than permission?"

She giggled nervously in answer.

Jaskier sighed. "Okay… so why are these guys here? Why am I being offered a job?" His eyes narrowed, jaw clenching. “What did you do.”

She wrung her hands. "Well… I didn't know who else to call. I wanted you to be able to stay on the road, it's what you love. Geralt said his manager was retiring, so they'd need another to help them out after this tour season."

Jaskier stared at Triss like she'd grown an extra head. "You want me to be Geralt's _boss_? You…"

"Hear me out, please." She said. "Vesemir has great contacts. He's been doing this for a bit. You told me when all this with Valdo happened that maybe one day you'd want to go solo. If you do that, you need to have those connections."

He sighed. "But in the meantime, I'll have to look after these assholes?"

Triss looked a bit offended. "I know first impressions are bad and Geralt messed up, but don't talk that way about Eskel. Or Vesemir."

"Fuck you too, Merigold!" Lambert sneered.

She ignored him and continued. "But to answer your questions from earlier, I've gotta meet the rest of my other band in two months. I have a lot to do in the meantime."

"So tonight was…"

"I wanted our last show to be good. Geralt and Vesemir helped that happen." She looked away again. "I don't want you to feel like just another loose end to tie up. I want you to be happy, too."

"Triss." He said warningly. She’d been encouraging him to approach Geralt for years now, for closure if nothing else, but it was an argument they’d put behind them. Or so he’d thought.

"I know that can happen." She whispered conspiratorially, searching his eyes for secret agreement. "I know you guys could make up."

Jaskier tried not to scowl, but it was difficult. "Well, if not, it'll give me more material for songs."

She flinched but patted his shoulder. "That's the spirit? I guess?"

He laughed, pulled her into a hug. "Keep in touch."

"You too. Don't let the wolves chew on you too much."

"They’d wish to be so lucky.” He whispered so the others wouldn’t hear. But he knew better. Hard Ones had good hearing. It was necessary to survive the System. And the Path

Triss left the hug, her eyes a bit misty. "You talk with Vesemir, I'm gonna say goodbye to the others."

Jaskier invited Vesemir to get a drink. He was starting to think he really needed one.

"I'm sorry my offer took you off guard. She made it sound like you'd be in the know."

"We've had some other things happen since then. Honestly, I don't have anything holding me back from taking on other projects now."

"That's great!" Vesemir took his whiskey and brought it to his mouth, the lip of the cup swallowed by his silver moustache. "Does that mean you'll hear us out on that offer?"

Jaskier was still waffling over what to drink. "I think there is plenty we can offer each other, mutually. I'm just concerned about the band itself."

"Hmm." That sounded familiar. "Don't mind Lambert. He's a vindictive boy, always has been. Eskel might look mean, but he's good. If there's anything you need, he'll bend over backwards to help, anytime. And you know Geralt."

"That's part of the problem."

Vesemir nodded. "Well… he was the one who asked me to come along. Not your Merigold."

Jaskier nodded. "Geralt's head is a mystery to everyone but Geralt." He paused. "Or Yen. How about her? Is she here too?"

"She's taking care of Ciri. She _did_ do the boys' makeup so they could fit in, though."

"Of course she did. Should have known." He paused. "Wait, why is she taking care of Ciri? Where's--"

"There was an accident. Geralt is her godfather, so he has custody. Being on the road isn't good for a child though, so Yennefer is taking care of her while we're here. After I retire, she'll probably stay with me for half the year while the band is on tour."

Jaskier blinked stupidly up at Vesemir. "An accident? Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"Who would have told you?" Vesemir asked. "Yennefer? Geralt?"

Good point.

Vesemir smiled at his whiskey. "She's growing up well, though. Turning sixteen this year. I'm looking forward to continuing her horseback training this coming spring. Getting an attitude, though. Not that it’s surprising, all things considered."

Jaskier groaned. "I feel old."

Vesemir shot him a look. Whoops, saying that to the more-or-less grandpa wasn't the best idea. "So let's discuss business."

"Yes, sir." Jaskier watched Vesemir knock back the last of his whiskey. Too late to order now, he guessed. He needed it now more than before, though.

"So, I need someone who can keep my boys' impulses in check. Considering Geralt has told me some about when you traveled together, and seeing how you shut Lambert up five minutes ago, I think you might have that down, to a degree."

Jaskier nodded but didn’t respond. There wasn’t much kind he could say.

Vesemir paused. "Another aspect of the job is keeping them productive. Getting them in the studio together is like herding cats, and I fucking hate cats."

Jaskier covered his mouth before he could snort at that. "I have a bit of experience in studio wrangling."

Vesemir grunted again. Jaskier could see where Geralt got it now. "Another thing is you'll have to keep them from fighting. I'm not saying altogether, that would be asking too much. Just be the voice of reason if you could. I… might have raised them to not use their words so well."

Jaskier bit his tongue but he was sure that his face said it all.

"And the last one. This is just as much for their benefit as men as it is for their band. Make them _practice_." Vesemir shook his head. "They need to practice, work through their heads, and it'd be better if they did it together. But I'll accept if they do it alone, as long as they do it."

"They spend more time raising hell, I take it?"

"If they're around, hell's already raised. They're just going to make sure everyone knows it."

Jaskier laughed. "Well. I'll see what I can do."

"I'm not expecting kumbaya around a campfire. I'm just expecting not to hear of another incident that requires me to shell out bail."

"Oh, yikes."

"Hmm." Vesemir agreed. "So you'll accompany us, get a feel for our road life, and in the winter you can either room with us at my ranch in Kaer Morhen and I'll teach you what else I can, or you can go about your business, wherever and whatever that is."

"And after that?"

"After this winter, I'm retiring. And you'll be their manager until you're ready to move on. Then I'll get another hapless kid shaped up."

Jaskier nodded. "And I'm not doing this for free." He almost expected resistance.

"Never said you were."

"Right." Jaskier almost deflated. Honestly, that was a relief, though.

"Anyone who can help me wrangle these boys is worth his weight in gold. You'll have to prove your worth, but I'll give you what you need to get there."

"Sounds good, sir." Jaskier said.

Vesemir grunted in answer. "I'm going to go make sure they haven't set anything on fire."

 _Oh, yikes._ Jaskier realized that would be him in six to ten months. Stuck on the road with Geralt and his asshole brothers/bandmates. None of whom knew how to express themselves properly, and at least two of which were going to be cloying the tour bus with negativity in his direction.

Jaskier finally ordered his drink.


	2. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier attends his first metal concert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was fucking fun to write, but for everyone who liked the songs from the previous chapter, I need you to know there's going to be.... a lot of harder songs...... mostly in this chapter. 
> 
> Please give them a shot. If you're not into it, that's cool, but for these songs at least look up the lyrics. After the Burial is amazing, and their lyrics are so damn poetic. There's a reason I immediately thought, upon making this au, that the witchers would be that band in particular.
> 
> 7/29/20 EDIT NOTES: Continuity issues; story has changed throughout writing from how originally imagined. This is a good thing. Will add in extra tidbits for anyone chancing a reread. Enjoy!

"First, if we're gonna work together, you need to know this." Lambert's eyes were even more piercing without the contacts hiding their true color. "You hear my sex mix playing, you don't enter the bus unless you wanna get a good view of me pounding the roadies."

He had a few questions. _Do you mean groupies?_ among others, but what came out was "What does that sound like?"

In answer, Lambert began imitating sex noises.

Geralt smacked him upside the head. "The tape, asshole."

And it was only day one.

* * *

The bus wasn't too cramped, that was a blessing. Considering even Vesemir was built like a shit brick house, it made sense. Even a normal sized bus would have felt small with these lumbering assholes in it. Jaskier felt almost like a child, dwarfed by all these bodybuilder rejects. Or maybe strongmen. Something in between?

Even if Vesemir hadn't implied he raised them in a barn, they looked the part. Eskel wore tight, worn jeans that clung so immaculately to his ass that Jaskier was sure he'd been caught staring once or twice. He wore button-up flannel shirts, but today the AC on the bus wasn't working properly. Vesemir and Geralt were fixing it, Lambert raising hell in the parts shop. Eskel stripped off the flannel with a labored sigh, revealing the white tank underneath it, fitting in all the best places, exposing arms that looked like he regularly chucked trees for fun.

Jaskier definitely got caught staring.

When Vesemir said Eskel was the good one, Jaskier had had doubts, but upon speaking to him, he found that Eskel was much smarter than Jaskier had expected him to be.

"I'm still amazed that you perform so well without drums. Using the strings for percussion is a very nice technique, but I'm just not used to it."

"Well, you're the drummer, of course." Jaskier said.

Eskel's mouth twitched into a faint smile. "I do more than that."

"Do you?" Jaskier's brow shot up.

"I play just about anything. If I've never played a thing, stick me with it for three hours and I'll figure it out."

"So… piano."

"Sure. Not the best at it, but it’s fun to fuck around with."

"Guitar."

"Classical, bass, electric. Dying for a 12 string. That thing you play looks cool too."

"Violin?"

"Played a cello, violin shouldn't be too different."

Jaskier blinked at Eskel confoundedly. "What else?"

"An assortment of woodwind and brass. Looking for some bagpipes. Wanna learn that too."

"Oh wow. You're a goddamn Renaissance man."

"I prefer jack of all trades. Or magic hands, I've been told that too.”

"So why do you play drums?" Jaskier asked, fully mired in those honey-hued eyes. Enchanted, even.

"Mm…" His smile grew a little, and he leaned forward almost conspiratorially. Jaskier found himself leaning in a bit too. Quietly, he went on. “When someone dances, what is it they dance to?” He waited for a moment, as if for an answer. “It’s not the vocals. It’s not the guitar. It’s not even the bass. If you look at the people in the crowd, getting lost in the music-- and you’re going to notice it now that I tell you. You’ll never unsee it-- anyone who’s dancing, they dance to the beat. To the drums.”

Jaskier made a face like a man trying to untie headphone cords with his toes.

A long pause. “I never thought about that.”

“But you see it?” Eskel asked, and now Jaskier quit staring into space untangling imaginary cords. Eskel’s expression was adorable.

“So that’s why you play the drums?”

“No. It’s because I don’t want to be front and center. Less people see me behind the drum kit.”

Jaskier deflated, and Eskel laughed raucously.

* * *

The band was called Bewitchery, which Jaskier actually thought was fitting for multiple reasons. Before they were known as Hard Ones, they were known as Witchers. The term was considered dated, since the term for witches and sorcerers had morphed to "Graduate." But it was also fitting because they were quite bewitching to look at. Seeing Geralt in those tight pants almost made him want to open back up to him. Luckily, Eskel also had a fantastic ass. Despite his intentions to not look, so too did Lambert.

 _Oh no, they’re hot._ Seeing them set up the stage before their show, he felt weird. He looked up and prayed to whatever gods hadn’t abandoned him. “For the love of fuck, don’t let me fall for any of these assholes.”

Vesemir chuckled behind him. Jaskier had forgotten he was there. “Why don’t you help them get settled out there? You could probably help them with those cords.”

“They’ll just trip over me.”

“Gonna have to find a routine eventually. Go out there and let them know you’re there to help. They’ll find something for you to do other than gawk.”

Jaskier tried, but the look Geralt gave him could have melted steel. Lambert let out an impressive stream of words that were unlikely to actually make sense if they were taken seriously. Eskel had already finished setting his up, even though he'd arguably had the most to do, and was on his way backstage to get a drink and let the others fend for themselves. Including Jaskier.

Jaskier, dejected, returned backstage. Vesemir harrumphed at him. “Still have to pray on it?”

Jaskier bit his tongue almost hard enough to bleed. _Fuck every one of you._

* * *

Vesemir put in some earplugs and sat in an office backstage, reading a book. He’d offered Jaskier some earplugs, and Jaskier figured it was better safe than sorry. He knew how loud amps usually were at his own concerts; it was just strange to be on the other side of the stage.

There was security in front of the crowd. Jaskier poked Eskel and asked him why they were there. Was there a danger?

“Have you ever seen a mosh pit?”

Lamber snorted. “Of course he hasn’t.”

Jaskier took a deep breath. “No, I actually haven’t. But I know what they are.”

“When the crowd gets into it, it’s like they turn into a liquid. A very angry liquid.” Eskel explained.

Lambert chimed in again. “That and the crowd surfers.”

Eskel grunted in agreement. “Yeah, someone has to catch them so they don’t hit the floor or the stage.”

“Also people climbing onto the stage.” Geralt said.

Lambert laughed and rolled his shoulders. “I swear to god, someone comes up this time, I’m gonna throw them off as hard as I can, and hope the crowd doesn’t catch them.”

“Doesn’t that seem a little harsh?” Jaskier asked.

“We’re not asking them to come up on stage.” Eskel said.

Lambert huffed. “Half the time, they’re picking a fight. Drunks.”

 _Hello, pot, I'm kettle._ Jaskier looked at the security guards. “So… those guys are our last line of defense against a liquid crowd and crazies?”

Geralt hummed. “Sounds like a song title.”

“Liquid crowd and crazies?” Lambert laughed. “Gimme five minutes and I’ll come up with a better one.”

_This one makes everything a competition, huh._

Jaskier put his earplugs in prematurely and went downstage to stand near the security guards. He wanted to see what all was going on, and still get a view of the concert, understand what exactly he was working with.

Immediately, Jaskier wondered if the earplugs were defective.

_This is a regretful adventure._

* * *

Five minutes in, and he’d wished he had stayed with Vesemir in the back room, asked for one of his books to read.

Jaskier had managed to find a spot right next to the bass amp, and even with the earplugs, it damn near blew his brains out. For all Eskel had said Drums were the beat, Bewitchery’s bass was very much percussive. Aggressively so. That was definitely because Lambert was playing it.

And then this shit started.

Jaskier was sure there was some artistry somewhere in there. _Somewhere_. And whatever the fuck Geralt was spewing from his face must have been in A Language.

He had to admit, though. These guys knew stage presence. And the crowd behind him was so energetic. Screaming, jumping in time, arms raised. They really did look like a raging sea of bodies, with occasional people floating on top.

Jaskier stared at each of them in turn, on the stage. Eskel, hidden behind his drums except for his long hair, coated in cheap conditioner to keep it looking wet. Jaskier wondered if he were playing cymbals with it as he swung his hair in circles as he headbanged. There was too much going on over there for Eskel to just be using his sticks and feet, Jaskier was convinced.

Lambert was the perfect image of the phrase “getting that shit” and it was magnetic. He was standing with one foot over the amp, almost holding his bass like an extension of his dick, and flailing his hair extensions, the braid-in dreads that Eskel had helped him with that morning. Of course, Lambert was shirtless, and the sheen of sweat played in the lights, illuminating the ripple of muscle in an almost hypnotic way.

Geralt, though, was a trip. Hard Ones usually didn’t take their poisons if they weren’t involved in their traditional roles, but the wide blackness of Geralt’s eyes was like a pit, the fanning black veins snaking across his pale skin. Jaskier had no idea what he’d taken, what effect it had had, but it terrified him. Geralt’s hair was styled into a bun, he wore a crop top that looked more like a useless poncho, and his stomach was painted up with weird patterns in paint that reacted to the lights.

Jaskier knew, though. Those patterns were strategically hiding the worst of his scars.

Geralt’s electric guitar, named Silver, glinted in the light, too, traces of that paint smearing on the body as it brushed his stomach. Geralt balanced between playing and… erm… _performing_. Jaskier really didn’t know what to say about the screaming.

Other than it was compelling in a base, primal way that he didn’t want to admit.

Yes, next time, he was _definitely_ hanging with Vesemir.

Oh? They were done? No, just getting ready for another song. Lambert stepped down from the amp. Now was usually the time for playful banter between songs. Lambert grabbed another mic stand and settled it closer to him. “ _Fuck yeah, motherfuckers_! It’s time for a special little ditty called Gasoline. Ya’ll gotta do me a favor though.”

“Can you do that for us?” Geralt roared. The crowd roared back. Geralt turned to Lambert, a smile lighting on his face for a moment. Crowd-high made Geralt glow, too. “What should they be doing, Lambert?”

Lambert’s eyes were wild. “[ARMS IN THE AIR RIGHT FREAKIN NOW! IF THEY’RE NOT UP, YOU’RE A BIG FAT DOUCHEBAG!](https://youtu.be/XaAPkQz_JOM?t=167)”

Jaskier blinked at him. “What?”

“DOUCHEBAG! IN THE AIR-- in the air, dude.” And then, he began to coo, “Ohh, look it’s a douchebag, douche~ douche~!”

And at that point, Geralt began the song. “ ** _LET’S BURN IT FUCKING DOWN!_** ”

Jaskier jumped and turned to look. The crowd burst into movement. Didn’t they ever get tired?

Lambert began rapping. What the fuck.

**_Back from the dead to tell you that I'm alive, killed the old way but I survived_ **   
**_Fuck the blueprint, I redesign. Death or exile, you decide_ **   
**_Tell 'em all that I made my name, tell 'em all that I paved my way_ **   
**_Found the fear then went face to face, now it's mine to send up in flames_ **

Jaskier’s eyes were so wide they were burning from all the lights. And then Geralt joined in with his scream and the chorus, which they both screamed. And this time, somehow, it was obvious what they were saying.

**_'Cause this right here is as far as you go_ **   
**_This right here is where I lose control_ **   
**_This right here is as far as you go_ **

**_Burn it all down, burn it all down, I don't give a fuck_ **   
**_Burn it all down, burn it to the ground_ **   
**_Feed the flames, go insane, and burn it all down, burn it all down_ **   
**_Fuck what they say, fuck everything, light the match, gasoline_ **   
**_Kill it all, kill everything, and burn it all down, burn it all down_ **

Jaskier stared at the stage, felt a strange energy overtaking him. Lambert launched back into the next verse, leaving Jaskier’s head to spin. Somewhere in the song, he found himself drawn closer to the barricade between stage and crowd.

Somewhere in the song, he wondered if he’d feel like they did, on the other side.

**_Nothin' but red inside when I close my eyes. Vision built that you can't deny_ **   
**_Born and bred to take back what's mine. Break or bow down, you decide_ **   
**_Tell 'em all that you can't be saved, tell 'em all that you dug this grave_ **   
**_Learn to live in this mess you made. Now it's mine to send up in flames_ **

**_'Cause this right here is as far as you go_ **   
**_This right here is the end of the road_ **   
**_This right here is as far as you go_ **

**_So burn it all down, burn it all down, I don't give a fuck_ **   
**_Burn it all down, burn it to the ground_ **   
**_Feed the flames, go insane, and burn it all down, burn it all down_ **

**_The time is up, there's no return_ **   
**_Fuck them all, watch them burn_ **   
**_Yeah, 'cause I don't give a fuck_ **

**_Fuck what they say, fuck everything_ **   
**_Light the match, gasoline_ **   
**_Kill it all, kill everything_ **   
**_And burn it all down, burn it all down_ **

One of the security guards moved Jaskier so he didn’t get kicked in the head by a crowd surfer. Jaskier felt dizzy, drunk, and confused. Another security guard took a double take at him before he smiled and came closer. After a second, Jaskier recognized him.

“Zoltan. No way.”

“First metal concert?” He asked. “We’ll catch up after the show. Go get some water, friend.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Jaskier looked up at the stage, where Lambert was pouring a bottle of water on himself, further drenching himself. He took the last bit of the water and squirted it in Geralt’s face. Geralt made an unholy noise and flung at him. Eskel stood up. “GUYS! One more song, then a break!”

They looked at each other. Looked at Eskel. Lambert spoke into the mic. “Oh, yeah, that sounds fair.”

Geralt grunted. “This one’s called Torn Apart.”

Lambert nodded, Eskel twirled his sticks.

Jaskier looked back to Zoltan, who gestured to him and then to the backstage path with a water bottle. As the music started back up, Jaskier nodded and took the bottle. “Thanks.”

“I’ll find ya later.” He said. “Go sit down ‘fore you pass out.”

Jaskier headed backstage, letting the music punctuate his steps. This song felt like what Eskel had been talking about. The drum pattern pierced through his bones, as if they were practicing premature necromancy, trying to animate his body before he left it.

He had no idea how he was feeling. He emptied the water bottle into his face hole and sat down as instructed.

There were parts of this song that managed to reach him. Small parts that stirred something unknown in him. It occurred to him that this was their _soft song_.

It was haunting, to hear those sounds come from Geralt. The outro of the song a balance of rawness and vocal. He still couldn’t figure out exactly what he was saying without help… but...

Jaskier had never known Geralt could sing.

* * *

“So how’d you like it?” Lambert wagged his tongue piercing through his lips at Jaskier. Vesemir was driving the tour bus, and everyone was sitting in the little kitchenette eating various things.

Jaskier shifted in his seat carefully, handful of chocolate-covered coffee beans paused in its path to his mouth. “It was an experience.” He muttered.

“What, really?” Lambert turned to Geralt. “I know this is the same guy who said ‘three words or less’ to you, but I expected something with a little more _feedback_ in it.”

Eskel hummed in agreement around his hashbrown. “It was your first metal concert, wasn’t it? Overwhelming.”

Jaskier nodded adamantly. “I… didn’t think it would be _that_ different from what I’m used to.”

Eskel chuckled. Lambert didn’t look impressed. He waved a stick of jerky at Jaskier, crumpling the bag it came from before tossing it somewhere that was decidedly not in the direction of the trash can. “Sorry it’s not the Dixie Stampede, country boy.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes and crunched on a couple beans. “You guys were raised on a ranch, choke on the thickest part of my ass.”

Geralt cleared his throat before Lambert could speak again. His voice was hoarse-- which didn’t surprise Jaskier after last night’s performance. “Did you like the songs?”

Jaskier felt his mouth pucker like he’d eaten a lemon. He hid this by popping a couple more coffee beans into his mouth and offering the bag to Geralt. Refused. “Well. Um. I do believe that’s the most sound I’ve ever heard you make. I’m just disappointed I couldn’t understand one word of it.”

Lambert smacked the table, making Geralt’s plate of eggs and mug of thick coffee lurch. “Sorry we can’t all sound like CMT took a _shit_ in our mouths like you! If you woulda done your research before getting the job, maybe we wouldn’t have upset your delicate system with--”

“My system isn’t _that_ delicate, Lambert. _I_ didn’t write a song about burning shit down.”

Eskel’s eyebrows shot up. “Ooh, that was a good guess.”

Lambert went to get up, but Geralt shoved him back into his seat by his shoulder. “Couldn’t understand a word, though?” Geralt asked, a single note of disappointment.

Jaskier looked into his bag of beans for distraction, but it was empty. “That one was easier to get, I guess.”

“Fair enough.” Geralt said.

Eskel got up and went into the bunk area, rummaging around in a bag before coming back with a beaten and coffee-stained notebook. “How about this?”

Geralt snatched it out of Eskel’s hands. “Youtube works, too, for lyrics. _That’s_ private.”

“It’s _my_ notebook. Yours is still in there.”

Geralt glared at Eskel. Eskel glared back.

Jaskier sighed in aggravation. “I’ll look it up on youtube or something. Just the lyrics? What?”

Eskel shook off the aggravation. “You should look up the video for [Behold the Crown](https://youtu.be/c64J3kadYrE). We worked hard on it. Filmed it on the ranch!” He clapped Lambert’s shoulders. “His friends volunteered to act in it.”

“He has friends?” Jaskier deadpanned.

“ _Fuck_ you, Jon Mayer wants his hair back!” Lambert snarked.

“You’re just mad because you look like you’re too old for Hot Topic and you’re bitter about it.”

Vesemir groaned from the driver's seat. “Girls, girls, you’re both pretty. Shut up and find some common ground before I duct tape you together and throw you into a portapotty.”

Geralt stiffened at that and turned around to glare at Vesemir. Jaskier studied the bottom of his bag again. Lambert sighed and practically laid down in his seat. Eskel put the notebook back in his bag and went up front to sit behind Vesemir.

Jaskier looked back to Lambert and sighed. “Look, all I’m saying is it can’t be _that_ hard for you to sing.”

Lambert hitched an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? Well, it can’t be that hard for you to scream.”

Jaskier recoiled. “Why would I want to do that? I’d ruin my voice!”

Geralt shook his head. “No.”

“No?”

Lambert snorted. “Not if you do it right. Screaming never hurt my voice-- only time I fucked my voice up is when I was trying to sing.”

Jaskier perked up. “What do you mean? Did you do your vocal exercises? Did you stay hydrated? Did you--”

“Like I said, I’ll learn to sing if you learn to scream.”

Jaskier stared at Lambert, then his eyes darted to Geralt. “And I won’t ruin my voice?”

Geralt shook his head. Lambert rolled his eyes. “What’s to lose anyway?”

Jaskier glared at Lambert. “You know what, you smug asshole? It’s a fucking deal.”

“Woah-ho! Tim McGraw over here has balls!”

“Oh, _please_. Tim McGraw wishes.” Jaskier said, getting up to go sit down on his bunk with his phone. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go look for tutorials. Because I’m going to get the hang of this _well_ before you.”

Lambert got up, too. This time Geralt didn’t impede him. “We’ll see about that, pretty boy!”

Jaskier blinked at him, surprised. “Hear that, guys? He thinks I’m pretty!”

Up front, Eskel laughed.

* * *

It was after they’d stopped for dinner. Everyone got off the bus, stretched their legs. Lambert stayed on, tinkering with his ancient laptop. Vesemir warned him not to attract police again, and not to burn the bus down.

He later joined them in the diner, with the smuggest look on his face. Nobody addressed it, as if hoping he’d stop if they didn’t give him any attention. Jaskier was filled with dread.

That night, when he crawled into his bunk, something cold and hard was under his ass. He pulled it out and looked at it. A CD? He turned on the flashlight on his phone.

In big, sloppy handwriting in black sharpie, it read “emo country boy’s sex mix.”

Across the aisle, Jaskier made eye contact with Lambert. He flipped him off, but couldn’t stop the smile from slipping onto his face as he turned off the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this is as fun to read as it was to write.
> 
> I have... a lot to do with this. Sorry the chapters are so long and music-heavy. I can't promise that will change.
> 
> There will be many more jokes to come. Many more songs. And probably a lot of sexual tension. 
> 
> Additional note: I actually saw ATB in concert, and it was the most amazing thing I believe I've ever seen. I bought two tanktops for 50 dollars and I'd do it again. Would sell my entire left ass to see them perform again.
> 
> Their song, A Wolf Among Ravens, literally feels like Geralt talking about living with mages and being Very Over It. Maybe there's other stuff to glean from the other songs *audible wink*
> 
> Also, I would kill to see I Prevail in concert (the band that does the song Gasoline in this chapter). The story of their band is also similar to Bewitchery's trajectory. If you want spoilers, look up the video to Hurricane by them, that will tell you the story... if you want to wait for it to come up in the story, tho, I gotchu.


	3. Unforgiven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt and Jaskier get into an argument. A one-sided argument.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so as of this chapter, this has become a vent fic lmao. little known fact is that, two and a half years ago i was openly trans. things have happened since then and I'm no longer sure. it's very complicated, but I can't go into it here because the person who put me back in the closet can access this and he won't be happy to see it. 
> 
> mostly im just worried no one will like this chapter lol thats why it's taken so long.
> 
> Why is this relevant? There's a scene in this chapter where Geralt and Jaskier fight because Jas is trans-man, and they have a conversation I swear I've actually had. I'm worried that some of you might not appreciate it, but i'm just exorcising some shit, i guess. I hope it won't be a trend, and that I explained my feelings through the medium of our beloved Jaskier, but if it feels weird, I understand...
> 
> 7/29/20 EDIT NOTES: Continuity issues; story has changed throughout writing from how originally imagined. This is a good thing. Will add in extra tidbits for anyone chancing a reread. Enjoy!

Zoltan helped Jaskier get the hang of stage setup. He'd been tagging along the band for a few months; Geralt had said they'd had trouble finding good security and people who wouldn't mind some heavy lifting. Zoltan was, as usual, the man for the job.

When Zoltan was around, Jaskier didn't feel quite that small. The two of them enjoyed setting up stage together, their banter light and easy. It was a nice contrast to being jammed on a bus with four grumpy, sarcastic asshole giants.

He'd been accounting to Zoltan how deceptively easy it had been to get Lambert to do what he needed him to do.

As long as Jaskier initiated an order under the guise of a challenge, Lambert fell into place. At places where Lambert needed to keep his mouth shut, Jaskier challenged him to stay quiet longer than him-- whoever lost bought drinks. This eventually led to the two of them trying to elicit noises from the other. Usually Jaskier, because all Lambert had to do was kick him in the shin.

The same kind of applied to practicing, really.

"So does Lambert have a habit of screwing the roadies, for real?" Jaskier asked.

"Ah, yeah. Not me though. Don't like the whoreson."

Jaskier made a face. "He's like a cactus."

Zoltan laughed. "Tried to beat me in a drinking contest."

"Did he?"

"Never finished. He was using me to buy rounds. Fucker."

"Sounds about right." Jaskier huffed. "Am I the only one who thinks he has a problem?"

"Just one?" Zoltan shot back.

* * *

Zoltan knew about Lambert's sex mix, and even knew where he hid it. He and Jaskier conspired to steal it.

They had no idea how it would backfire. With no music to warn him, Jaskier walked in on Lambert initiating some curious things with one of the roadies, his hand on their mouth to keep their noises muffled.

At the sound of the door opening, Lambert turned to look, saw Jaskier. His face lit with wicked intent, and he _did not stop_. He maintained eye contact with Jaskier, bare ass flexing as he just--

Jaskier backed out of the bus and searched for something to bleach his eyes with.

Lambert found his CD on his bed that night.

* * *

Jaskier was curious what was on his own "sex mix" and one day decided to try to listen to it.

Lambert, of course, came out of the woodwork to see Jaskier's reaction to hearing MCR mixed with the soundtrack of the musical Cats, some old-ass Shania Twain song that surprisingly _wasn't_ Man I Feel Like a Woman, and topped off with _goddamn Barbie Girl_.

Jaskier knew he was there, and was coming up short of ways to turn this to his advantage. If he showed weakness, Lambert won.

So he just laughed. It was ridiculous, anyway.

Meanwhile, Lambert had bragged to Eskel and Geralt about the playlist, and when he named off some of the songs, he was shocked when Geralt grabbed him by the shirt and threw him to a wall.

Geralt told him to lay the fuck off, or he'd be wearing bruises on stage.

Lambert usually would have replied with his standard "fuck you, I'll do what I want." But he'd never seen Geralt this pissed.

Lambert, personally, just decided to keep an eye on Jaskier. Yeah, Geralt was always a bit spicy about him, sure. But this had to be something else. He wasn't sure what he'd fucked up, but he'd figure it out eventually.

Elsewhere, Jaskier was still laughing at the idea of fucking someone to the tune of Barbie Girl.

* * *

It wasn't long before Jaskier figured out what Geralt had been doing behind the scenes. Vesemir had mentioned it offhand, and Jaskier immediately confronted Geralt. Cornered him at a soda machine one evening.

Geralt admitted to it, which astounded Jaskier even more.

"You've been…"

"Sticking up for you." Geralt repeated.

Jaskier's brow knitted. "I can do that myself, you know. If someone pisses me off I'll let them know."

"But--"

"No. You're not gonna 'defend my honor' like I'm fucking Yennifer von fingerbang."

"Vengerburg."

"Gasundheit."

"Jaskier--"

"No. You lost the right to act like that when you told me to fuck off."

"I never said--"

"What _did_ you say, Geralt? Hmm?"

Silence.

"Well, when you're ready to own up to that, you'll know where to find me." Jaskier began to walk off, but then turned back. “Also, I’ve changed since then. I’m not a scared little boy in need of reassurance. I’m a man who can fight his own battles. I’m secure in myself. You should try it, Geralt. It would be a good look for you.”

Jaskier bit his cheek to quiet himself. His eyes were winter fury, but his face was hot.

* * *

Jaskier set up his tablet on the table and video called Triss. She was with a few of her other fellow Graduates, none of which Jaskier was willing to admit he was familiar with. He knew Fringilla and Keira, way more than he wanted to, and the two of them were always a handful. They were like middle-aged wine moms who were obsessed with other cultures. They had rabidly watched k-pop music videos and enthusiastically asked Jaskier which member of each boy and girl band was his favorite.

He hadn’t quite gotten drunk enough, he supposed. Some of it was good, he supposed, just not what he got into usually. Keira's attitude ruined what appeal there was.

Triss was happy, though. It was a last-minute celebration of her new band affiliation. They were drinking each other stupid before she went away for gods-knew-how-long. It was a relief to see another smiling face. Jaskier promised himself that, even if he hadn’t reconnected with Zoltan, seeing Triss happy was enough to justify his damned circumstance.

Speaking of Zoltan, when he mentioned that he'd found him again, Triss was just as incredulous as he'd been. "Oh my frickin fuck, please give him my number. I miss him."

Zoltan piped up from stage left: "Miss me enough to come to a show before you fuck off?”

Triss squealed and begged Jaskier to hand the tablet over to Zoltan. Instead, Zoltan clambered up into the booth next to him, shoving him against the wall to fit into view.

Small talk went on, but eventually Zoltan had to leave-- he did manage to get her number and a promise to visit when she could-- and Triss was left with only Jaskier. Her friends were in the background now, though, and one of them said something to Triss, who looked irked.

“What was that about?” Jaskier asked.

“You’re still going to do your livestreams, right?”

Jaskier bit his cheek. “Might not be able to. Bus isn’t exactly a good place to do that, especially since Lambert will shit on me the entire time.”

Triss nodded. “Makes sense… but, you’re alone right now. Surely you do have some time?”

“Triss. Just spit it out.”

She sighed in defeat. “You know… those songs Keira likes.”

“Ugh.”

“Yeah, those. Not all of them are bad. Or in Korean. Or Japanese.”

“Go on and ask so I can say no.”

“She showed me a song and I thought it fit you perfectly. I even have a bit of a singable translation in the work for it…”

“ _You_ worked on it?”

“Yes. Keira doesn’t have a poetic bone in her body.” She said this brightly, as if it weren’t the worst insult Jaskier would have ever thrown at a person.

“So it fits me perfectly? How so?”

“I found tablature, got a rough translation, I’ve done all the hard work… I just need you to record the cover so Keira will stop listening to it!”

A long pause. “You want me to cover a song. So Keira will no longer like it.”

“Exactly! We both win. You annoy her, and she leaves that song alone.”

Jaskier rubbed his brow. “Just the one song?”

Her eyes glowed. “How many do you want?”

He growled. “One.” He sighed. “For now.”

“You hate the music that much?”

“It’s the attitude she’s got. I said it wasn’t my cup of tea and she pretended like I was out to kill puppies and kittens.”

Triss nodded. “Honestly, she’s not that big on animals…”

“You get my point, though. She can’t be so deluded to think that everyone shares the same thoughts she does.”

Triss made a face that said otherwise.

Jaskier laughed. “And she’s _your_ friend.”

Triss grabbed her tablet and migrated further away from the room where Keira and Fringilla were loudly watching something. “Would say you have it backwards.”

“Oh?”

“I’m _their_ friend. They don’t really seem to be mine.”

Worry ate at Jaskier. “What happened?”

She rolled her eyes. “They just… I don’t know. Maybe you’ve just spoiled me. With your willingness to support and encourage me. They’re just so…”

“Selfish? Self-centered? Other various negative adjectives that begin with S?”

She sighed, but finally her smile came back. “I’m going to come see the band perform. Spend my last couple of days before the trip with you and Zoltan.”

“Only if you’re willing to put up with the boys.”

“Is that really so bad?”

Jaskier frowned. “Every time I feel like I’m making headway, someone pisses me off.”

“Lambert?”

“Surprisingly, I can tolerate him. Most recently, it’s been Geralt.”

“Again?” Her voice cracked in disbelief.

“He didn’t yell at me this time. He just…”

“What did he do?”

“Apparently, he’s been more or less attacking anyone who says something or does something he’s worried will make me feel insulted. As far as I’m concerned, that’s none of his concern. I’m a big boy, I can handle my own feelings.”

“He’s trying to protect you? Isn’t that good?”

“I didn’t _ask_ for his protection. I didn’t ask for him to help me this entire time. He wasn’t there through me being homeless, he wasn’t there when I went through top surgery, and he sure as _fuck_ wasn’t there when I thought I needed him.”

“He didn’t know.” Triss said softly.

“It doesn’t matter. He cut me out because he wanted to focus on Yen. I decided to focus on myself, and I _don’t regret that_.”

“I know, Jas, but… can’t we all just move forward from this?”

He sighed. “Being as how he’s never addressed it, never apologized, I don’t feel like bridging the gap like I always used to. He wants the results, he’ll put in the effort. In the meantime, he can quit pretending to be the best friend he didn’t have the strength to be.”

There was silence. Triss tried to figure out where to go, because the turn the conversation took was not helping either of them. Finally, she cleared her throat. “So, to annoy Keira? The song?”

Jaskier perked up a bit. “Yes, tell me more.”

* * *

Well, as fun as it was to play around, Jaskier was still trying to learn to scream. It wasn’t going well. Eskel asked him how he was feeling, because he’d been quiet all day. Jaskier had mentioned that his throat felt horrible, but he wasn’t sick.

Lambert, overhearing, joked that he’d been getting throat-fucked. Surprisingly, Jaskier agreed, saying it felt like he’d gargled shards of glass. There was an instant change in Lambert’s demeanor.

“You’ve been practicing?” Lambert’s eyes narrowed. He waited for Jaskier to nod. Lambert made a pained face. “You’ve been doing it wrong. Obviously.” He sat down with Jaskier. “Show me what you’re doing. Walk me through it. Are you-- yeah, no, stop doing that.”

“What?”

“You’re contorting your throat like you’re trying to sing Louis Armstrong.”

“That’s exactly what the video online said to do.”

“Do you want to destroy your throat?” Lambert asked cheerily. “Because if you do that, you will. The video is garbage, it taught you epiglottal screaming and that will literally hurt you until you form calluses inside your fucking throat. Even if you did so, which would take _months_ if not _years_ of pain, it wouldn’t offer a good sound. It’s inconsistent at best.”

Jaskier blinked at him. “Wow. That was a lot of words. I understood some of them.”

Lambert didn’t listen. He was scrolling through Jaskier’s list of videos on his tablet. “Okay, all of these videos are shit. You’re banned from watching these. None of these pricks know what they’re talking about.”

 _You certainly do_.

“Damn right, I do.” Lambert said, glowing a bit from the praise Jaskier hadn’t realized he’d voiced. “Tomorrow, when your throat feels less fucked, I’m teaching you the proper ways.”

“Aw. You _do_ care.” Jaskier rasped.

“Fuck off.” Lambert shuffled, aware he now needed to find a way to save face. “If you fuck up your voice, I can’t get you to yell like a useless shit when I piss you off.”

Weak excuse, but Jaskier left it alone. “I won’t think too much on it.” He promised.

“Would require you to think. If you thought _this_ was a good idea…” He gestured at the videos that had hurt him. “I really don’t know how much dumber you could get.”

Jaskier caught Eskel watching them like a nature documentary. “Well, I took this job, so that’s fair.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY so i'm actually doing the cover that I was talking about. If anyone wants to know what the song is, I.............
> 
> Okay, it's Masked Bitch, a vocaloid song. I swear it will be fun, though. I just have to hook up my mic and find some quiet time to record. Might be a while, but when I get to it, I'll share it, if anyone's interested. After all, if I'm going to vent my issues in this story, I might as well try to sing them too lmao.


	4. Seasons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback to Geralt remembering painful truths. His thoughts are disjointed, his emotions raw. A ritual of remembering what could have been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is inspired by the song Seasons by DIV, which I'm working on an english cover of as well. 
> 
> I may or may not have accidentally got too into prose in this chapter........
> 
> 7/29/20 EDIT NOTES: Continuity issues; story has changed throughout writing from how originally imagined. This is a good thing. Will add in extra tidbits for anyone chancing a reread. Enjoy!

Geralt had never thought in prose before he met Jaskier. He'd never realized how much color he brought to the world until he fucked it all up. Left with the memories, all he could do was ask pointless what ifs.

For a while, he wondered if Jaskier was happy, if he remembered any part of their friendship fondly or if it were tainted by his actions. The years they'd shared ran together in his head, and he stared over the naked trees, missing when they'd been in bloom. The petals of the flowers had been stuck in his hair; Jaskier had laughed and picked them out.

Every spring before returning to the Path, he always found himself here. A promise once broken, now fulfilled alone. Now that he no longer was on the Path, he still found himself breaking off from the band, just to hurt himself again. Just to remind himself of another spring.

He still remembered clearly how Jaskier had changed overnight, from the always accommodating fairytale of a man to someone who wouldn't even meet his eyes. It hurt; Geralt was used to this, but never from Jaskier. But he stayed silent, apologies dying on his bloodless lips because maybe it was better this way.

He wanted too much. He couldn't face the fact that his feelings had grown. He didn't want Jaskier to suffer under the sheer weight of Geralt's desires. In the aftermath, he realized that, perhaps, he hadn't been alone in his feelings. Maybe he'd been wrong in thinking that sex and romance meant nothing to Jaskier. That, perhaps, Geralt wasn't just an interesting strand in a tapestry of partners.

He wrote letters, tore them up. They all said the same thing anyway. Why couldn't he shake this off? Why did the knowledge that it could have been salvaged keep him up at night? Jaskier had faked smiles for Geralt's sake, when Geralt never would. And emotions mirrored between blue and golden eyes were buried as they both let time slip by.

The seat of memory lay in these streets, in the cold just before a new spring. Rainy season, fogging up windows and chilling fingers. They'd both been drunk, walking home together, holding each other up.

And for a moment the last snow had looked like flower petals as it lingered in the air, catching in Jaskier's hair. Looking at him, he stumbled as his chest began to ache, and in worried eyes, he met his feelings for the first time.

Geralt was never good at verbalizing his feelings. But he had, back then, wrote a letter to him. He'd had to walk the Path alone for a brief time, but he promised they'd meet again, every year on that street. It was a simpler, more innocent time. But nothing could change that he broke his promise.

His memories skip over the fight every time, he can't stand to linger there. Jaskier had tried to be supportive; that's what he always did. And it made him so angry to see him bury his pains…

But Geralt hadn't let go. Not fully. He talked to Triss, checked on him in ways no one would notice. Just to see if his smile finally reached those icy eyes. One day, he found that they did. Jaskier found love several times after Geralt, and Geralt finally understood the pain and false smiles. But he also understood that Jaskier had been stronger than he had, because Geralt ached each time, agonizing over alternate paths.

It hadn't been this way with Yennefer. They had gone back to being friends, because even she knew that he was still stuck in his memories. In his first love.

Why, though? Was it because of everything they'd shared? The company they kept? Was Jaskier just different? Geralt found himself agonizing over whether the memories meant more to him. Wondering if Jaskier still thought of him.

The seat of memory, the year after he'd written that letter. They'd met again as planned. Eager, both early, both quick to fall deeply into cups. The drinking made them honest. Made them more inclined to see what they avoided for the rest of the year.

He could still smell sweet olive incense, and it would bring him back every time. That night, they hadn't been as drunk, but still walked closer, side by side. The winter moon was full and bright, and their breaths were hazes of white.

They stopped walking beneath the tree. Space decreasing. The feeling of the bark under his palm as he leaned.

Words he couldn't remember, but he remembered the sound of a gasp. The cold melted into a blooming warmth between their lips.

In the room they were to share, only one of two beds were used. As that winter's first snow fell, they pressed together "just for warmth." Once again, his chest felt tight as he looked into those eyes, and in the whisper of a name, almost cried.

And years later, there he was, fingers digging into bark, only this time he was alone beneath the tree. The questions of if Jaskier were happy, if he too wished it had been different… Geralt felt the prickle in his eyes as he looked up at springtime blooms.

Geralt pushed off from the tree and walked down the road he knew so well. Where they once would walk together, now he always walked alone. And Jaskier never came back, but he was better off that way… but still, Geralt sharply felt his absence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Singable translation I wrote (You can tell that I referenced this almost as an outline for the chapter): 
> 
> I wonder if you’re laughing now, wherever you may have gone  
> Do you laugh because you remember just how happy we once were together?  
> Memories of seasons past run so quickly through my mind  
> And the tidings, cherry blooms, gently remind me of another spring
> 
> We kept our love cheerful to the end, but I wonder if you cried even before then  
> The pure, innocent girl that I loved, and the fairytale she came from simply faded away  
> When next we met, your eyes were cast down, ever since that fateful day I never caught your stare  
> Because all I ever did was want, what you gave to me was never enough at the time
> 
> Please tell me now, why did you always fake a smile for my sake, when I never would?  
> Did we not know, neither one, how you felt as you let time pass and bury us both?
> 
> Springtime haze gives way to snow that lingers softly in the air  
> Rainy seasons are so cold, fevered bodies pressed together   
> You made my chest feel tight as if it would overflow  
> In your eyes, I met my feelings there.
> 
> Do you still have that letter I wrote, studded with all my thoughts, all my feelings?  
> I was younger back then, innocent, but it doesn’t change that I broke the promise written there
> 
> I know that you fell in love many times since we last met but, do you still think of me?  
> Or am I alone reminiscing of the love that we once shared because to me it was more?
> 
> Incense of olives so sweet followed us as we walked that night  
> The full moon was clear and bright, our breath left us in clouds of white  
> And somewhere between rushed words, and a softly uttered gasp  
> The cold melted, trapped between our lips.
> 
> …
> 
> Springtime haze gives way to snow that lingers softly in the air  
> Rainy seasons are so cold, fevered bodies pressed together   
> You made my chest feel tight as if it would overflow  
> In your eyes, my feelings reflect.
> 
> I wonder if you’re laughing now, wherever you may have gone  
> Do you laugh because you remember just how happy we once were together?  
> Memories of seasons past run so quickly through my mind  
> And the tidings, cherry blooms, gently remind me of another spring
> 
> Don't you remember that town with all those lovely cherry trees  
> Where we once always walked hand in hand, I walk it all alone  
> It’s a ritual of mine, I know we've both grown up just fine  
> But sharply I still feel your absence


	5. Matter of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eskel and Jaskier start writing music together, perhaps a bit too successfully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted a chapter earlier this morning, and here I am again. A bonus chapter I wrote in a couple hours.
> 
> WARNING: Mentions of depression and Coen's death. I keep it vague.
> 
> Enjoy the music contained in this chapter, there are subtitles in the video nested, so you can read/sing along! It's by a band called Tesseract, and it's a series of three songs in a group of songs dubbed "Of Matter", called Proxy, Retrospect, and Resist, and seem to be about the singer coping with an ugly breakup. Please consider checking out the annotations on Genius Lyrics-- they might have a lot of feels there, especially in connection to the previous chapter.
> 
> 7/29/20 EDIT NOTES: Continuity issues; story has changed throughout writing from how originally imagined. This is a good thing. Will add in extra tidbits for anyone chancing a reread. Enjoy!

“How’s the singing going?”

Lambert winced before he could catch himself. “Not that bad. Just hurts.”

Now it was Jaskier’s turn to be worried. “Do you ever warm up your voice, or do you just go straight to belting? You need to start smaller.”

“I’m just giving you help so you have half a chance of beating me.” Lambert said, completely ignoring the advice.

“To borrow words from an asshole, ‘Do you want to wreck your throat? Because that’s how you wreck your throat.’”

Lambert gave him a withering glare. “Fine. Show me the warmups. Not gonna do them, though.”

“If you want to sing, you’re gonna have to.”

“‘Sposed to do them when screaming, too.” Lambert said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Warmups aren’t sexy.”

Jaskier blinked at him in disbelief before busting out laughing. “Not sexy? Wow. Um, okay. Neither is having throat surgery to remove calluses.”

Lambert looked away and nodded a bit. “That would suck…”

“Let’s practice some warmups. Since I do them all the time, we can start doing them at the same time, so you’re not as self-conscious.”

“Fuck you, I’m not--”

“If I can do it and still be ‘pretty’ you can still do it and be… you.”

“Say it.” Lambert grinned. “Say it and I’ll agree.”

Jaskier growled. “Fine. If we do the exercises together, I’ll still be ‘pretty’ and you’ll still be ‘sexy.’”

Lambert snorted. “Okay, never say that again with that look of disgust. I’ll earn it.”

_What does that mean?_

“Okay, let’s do sirens, then some four-by-fives.”

“Hhhhhhugh.”

* * *

During the next show, Jaskier decided to sit with Vesemir. He didn’t seem to have anything to read this time, but it was easy to talk to him for the most part. He asked about the ranch, how many horses he had. Who was taking care of it while he was on the road.

“I’ve always wanted to learn to ride a horse.”

“Hmph. I’ll be a bit busy teaching Ciri… but I’ll see what I can do.” Vesemir had an odd look to him, like he was plotting something.

_Time for a change in subject._

“When we met, you said my music reminded you of home.”

“Yes… when we’re on the road, I get homesick.”

Jaskier waited for more, but…

Nevermind, here he goes! “I like how peaceful it is. Simple. Reminds me of when me and my brothers were growing up.”

“You have brothers?”

“Had.” Vesemir said. “You know how it is for us Hard Ones. They died a long time ago. Not too long after I adopted the boys.”

There was a lull of silence, then. Once again, Vesemir spoke up. “My boys mean everything to me. They’re all I have left, and I don’t know what they’ll do when I’m not here to guide them anymore. I didn’t whip them into shape just to see them go to hell when I’m gone. That’s why I didn’t decide to teach you until after I heard you play. Sure, you seem to be good at reigning the boys in so far, but I’m not going to be stuck teaching someone I can’t tolerate.”

This time, conversation did dry up. Jaskier didn’t really know what to say.

* * *

“Jaskier.” The deep rumble of Eskel’s voice was startling, and Jaskier jumped.

“Yes?”

“Geralt’s video calling with Ciri and Lambert’s an ass. Will you come help me write this song?”

“Are you sure?”

Eskel eyed him but didn’t answer.

“I guess you are.” Jaskier said and got up, following Eskel into the back of the bus. Jaskier picked up Steel and sat down on his bunk. Eskel had his notebook out and was writing in it. “So what kind of song is it?”

“Something truer to our old stuff.”

“What… does that mean?”

Eskel looked up at him, but there was amusement in his eyes. And something else. “Did you know Geralt used to sing more?”

“Really?”

“Mmm. It was about as raw and raspy as you’d expect. That was back when we first started. It was just me and him.”

“Being a two-man band is hard.” Jaskier commiserated.

“We didn’t perform on stage. Just recorded stuff. Lambert knocked around and found us and demanded to be included. We started playing locally, and eventually decided to take it on the road.”

“How long ago was this?”

Eskel scowled as he counted years in his head. “Four? Five years ago?”

Five years ago, Jaskier had heard from Triss that Geralt was in therapy. “Was it a good thing, all of you together, working on something?”

“It was for a while.” Eskel said, eyes shifting back to the notebook a little too quickly. “So about that song.”

Eskel had handed the notebook to Jaskier, told him to browse around a bit, settle on the style for their lyrics. Meanwhile, he played Steel, hammered out a tune while Jaskier recorded the tablature and strum pattern on the page. The lyrics would come later.

It turned out to be sort of fun. Eskel passed the guitar back to him once, and told him to play what they had so far, and he hummed along, the baseworks to what they’d write lyrics over. Jaskier mused that, once Lambert was confident in his voice, maybe he could convince Eskel to practice too. He could carry a tune just fine; he was just working against his voice’s strengths.

“Is Lambert so hard to write with?” Jaskier asked when there was a lull in the work.

Eskel grunted. “Not easy. He has what he’s good at. He’s best with mastering and mixing. Geralt and I create the base. We all have our talents; his just isn’t usually writing.”

“Didn't he write Gasoline?”

Eskel nodded. “He wrote others, but he wouldn’t share them. Geralt and I respect that.”

“Why wouldn’t he share them?”

Eskel motioned to the notebook. “Give that here for a moment.”

Jaskier assumed he was just trying to change the subject again, but surprisingly, not. Eskel held the notebook where Jaskier could see it. The cover was burned, some of the first pages as well. From where he’d been holding it folded, he hadn’t even noticed. “Three years ago, while we were on the road on tour, our bus burned down, and we lost everything. I ran onto the bus and got our notebooks, mine and Geralt’s.”

“Is that how you got your scars?” Jaskier asked.

“No.” He said. “After that, we went back to the ranch. We hadn’t been taking winters off back then like we did now… so when we got back, it…” He inhaled deeply. “Geralt was missing so much of Ciri growing up. He needed to go back to therapy, got really depressed. And Lambert…”

Jaskier waited.

The pause only seemed to lengthen. Eskel licked his lips as if his mouth had gone dry. When at last he spoke, it was hesitantly, phrases short and almost impersonal. “We had another brother. His name was Coen. He and Lambert were close. Coen had gone off to college, only one of us who did.” Eskel bit his lip. “He never came home. Vesemir didn’t want to tell us, and Lambert found out the hard way.” There was a heavy pause. “We almost quit the band, quit everything.”

“What happened next?” Jaskier asked. “I can't imagine going through all that.”

“I dragged us all into the studio. Music had been our escape before; we still needed it. It was hard, at first, but we didn’t intend to go back on tour. How could we, when our bus was gone? It was hard enough for us all to just get out of bed. Ciri stayed with us that whole year, and it helped a lot. She was so into the music, encouraged us all, not just Geralt. Lambert wrote in his own new notebook, trying to get through his head in all that. Didn’t want to share it because it was too personal to him. And Coen.”

“How’d you guys get this bus?”

“Yen pitched in. A few of Geralt’s other friends, too.”

“Did you want to go back on tour?”

Eskel sighed, relaxing back into his bunk. “I don’t think so. I like performing, but I get claustrophobic in the bus. I didn’t agree to get on until Vesemir said he was coming too. We made a promise to always come back in the winter.” He sighed. “Fire happened in the winter.”

A pause. “So is that why Vesemir is always checking to make sure no one’s catching things on fire?”

Eskel smiled briefly, a quick quirk of the lips. “So it seems.”

Jaskier, finally done prodding, sighed. “What should this song be about?”

“Was hoping you had an idea.”

“Let’s go through it again, maybe I’ll come up with something.”

* * *

One night, Lambert heard Jaskier singing, Eskel playing, and poked his head into the bunk room. “Bitch, lemme grab my bass.” No inquiries to join, nothing of the sort.

It was strange. The three of them playing, laughing, and Lambert mimicking Jaskier’s singing voice in a humorous falsetto. But surprisingly, he wasn’t bad at suggesting lyrics. And to the gentle song, he brought something in the bass. It was almost percussive, like some of their other songs. Offset the soft mournfulness of Jaskier's voice.

“I like that, go back to that.” Jaskier said. “I’m getting ideas.”

“Oh, no.” Lambert snarked, but replayed the last bit.

“Do the thing!” Jaskier pointed at Eskel.

The song was layered slightly off beat, but Jaskier was nodding enthusiastically. “Holy shit, that sounds amazing.”

“Are you high?” Lambert asked.

“Trust me on this. Let's go back to the first part. Work with me, I’ll lead.”

* * *

They practiced the song frequently. It grew and grew, encompassing three tracks, a whopping 15 minutes total. About a man who’d been spurned, who’d coped with it, who’d struggled to resist the pull back, and now was strong enough to say it all aloud.

Lambert recorded the backing vocals on his laptop, had Eskel help him do the drums digitally. Other elements added, subtle effects to grant it that ethereal sound. And what they learned was that when Jaskier said “trust me on this” to listen.

Beyond their little world, Vesemir and Geralt sat up front. The curtain did little to block the sound. Every time, hearing Jaskier belt those notes sent chills up Geralt’s spine. His voice had always been so reserved, so controlled before. Now it was sculpted chaos.

Vesemir sighed. “You could go back there and ask to join.”

“Can’t offer anything to them.”

Vesemir contemplated whether to ask the rough question, but ultimately decided it wasn't in his nature to pull punches. “Why? Because he’s singing about you?”

Geralt’s face twitched into a hard grimace. He didn’t answer.

“You wrote for him, once too. He’s healing, he’s facing you. Give it time… and _try_.”

Again, he didn’t answer.

Behind the curtain, laughter resonated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like putting multiple meanings in my titles. 
> 
> Is anyone curious how Geralt was "keeping an eye on" Jaskier for the last four or five years? We're gonna find out next chapter. Gimme your guesses!


	6. Perform

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier does the livestream for Triss, friendships have kindled, and secrets are pried into the open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the span of 24 hours, this marks my third chapter posting.
> 
> I need a hug. Also, don't mind the new tags I added today. Totally nothing to worry about.
> 
> Nothing at all!
> 
> 7/29/20 EDIT NOTES: Continuity issues; story has changed throughout writing from how originally imagined. This is a good thing. Will add in extra tidbits for anyone chancing a reread. Enjoy!

Jaskier got a message from Triss. "I really need you to do that livestream Friday. I'll be in a car with them on the way to the airport. Please, please let me see the look on her face when you do the song."

There was a concert Friday. Jaskier worried, but decided he'd be okay in the bus. But the tablet simply wouldn't do.

"Lambchop."

"Yes, Junebug?" He'd started calling him that in a fit of teasing. They were at that stage in their teasing where they were giving pet names to annoy the other. 

"Can I borrow your laptop sometime? I get bored during the concerts with nothing to do. Could work on a song instead."

"Or. You could, I don't know, enjoy the show." Lambert motioned to himself. "Show you how good I am with my hands."

Jaskier laughed. "I can do that anytime. Promise I'll watch the next one, if you let me use your computer tomorrow."

Lambert smirked. "Y'know what? Fine. Just don't look in my porn folder unless you want your hair to look like Geralt's."

"You saying it'll scar me for life or…?"

"I'll leave it to your imagination." Lambert waggled his eyebrows.

"Not giving me many reasons not to look." Jaskier said. "Got me curious." He saw discomfort flit across Lambert's face, so he rushed to continue. "I'll respect your privacy though. If you want me to look, you can show me yourself."

Lambert didn't quite blush, but he hid his smirk behind a burger. Jaskier wondered, with how big a bite he took, if he was _trying_ to get choked.

"Careful, there. I don't know about everyone else, but I know CPR." He joked.

With his mouth full, Lambert rolled his eyes and sassed, "What, y'gonna give me mouth to mouth?" And for good measure, stuck his tongue out to show off the huge bite of burger.

"You're disgusting." Jaskier laughed.

"Your mother liked it." He shot back.

Jaskier fell back on the booth laughing, thrusting his foot across to kick Lambert-- but he misjudged the trajectory and kicked him in the dick.

Lambert choked.

"Oh shit ohshitohshitohshit." Jaskier scrambled up and across the table. "I WAS JOKING I DON'T KNOW CPR! PLEASE DON'T DIE!"

Lambert started laughing, swallowed down the burger. "Ohhh I owe you one now, Junebug. You better wear a cup."

Jaskier blinked dumbly at Lambert. "I thought you were choking."

"Calling your bluff." He coughed, still laughing.

Jaskier threw a water bottle at him. "Drink something!"

He let it hit him in the chest, wheezing with laughter. "Ain't drinking that shit. Gimme some coffee."

The argument continued until Vesemir threatened to break a lot of bones and laws.

* * *

Eskel and Jaskier were doing their thing, drumming up ideas while they waited for everyone else to get out of the gas station bathroom.

"We should do a cover of Gay Bar." Jaskier said.

Eskel tilted his head slightly. "Gay bar?"

"Oh my god how do you not know Gay Bar?"

He combed through his hair with one hand. "I uh… don't get out much?"

Jaskier laughed. "Gimme the guitar, I gotta do this for you."

"You could just show me on the--"

"It's more fun this way, trust me!"

And so there he was, guitar in hand, hopping around as he beat the hell out of Steel once again.

**_Eskel!_ **   
**_I wanna take you to a gay bar!_ **   
**_I wanna take you to a gay bar!_ **   
**_I wanna take you to a gaaay bar, gaaay bar, gay bar!_ **

**_Let's start a war, start a nuclear war_ **   
**_At the gaaay bar, gaaay bar, gay bar! Wow!_ **   
**_At the gay bar!_ **

**_Now tell me do ya, a do ya have any money?_ **   
**_I wanna spend all your money_ **   
**_At the gaaay bar, gaaay bar, gay bar!_ **

**_I've got something to put in you!_ **   
**_I've got something to put in you!_ **   
**_I've got something to put in you_ **   
**_At the gaaay bar, gaaay bar, gay bar! Wow!_ **

**_You're a superstar, at the gay bar!_ **   
**_You're a superstar, at the gay bar!_ **   
**_Yeah! you're a superstar, at the gay bar!_ **   
**_You're a superstar, at the gay bar!_ **   
**_Superstar! Super, super, superstar!_ **

Lambert came into the bus to hear Jaskier serenading a very bashful Eskel. "Ah, shit. Gay Bar. Classic. We should do a cover of that."

Eskel stared at Lambert, face red, then back at Jaskier. "Yeah. Yeah, that was fun."

Jaskier smiled. "Be more fun if we were gyrating all over the place.”

He paused, looked at Lambert, and they both lurched forward, gyrating at Eskel while yelling “AT THE GAAAAY BAR GAAAAY BAR GAY BAR!”

Eskel laughed, a full gut-busting laugh. He shoved at both of them, but his heart wasn’t in it. He had such a beautiful smile, a beautiful laugh. For a moment, Jaskier was breathless. Then those eyes met, and Jaskier almost flinched.

Golden eyes and emotion brought certain memories to the forefront. And those were memories he didn’t want to form again only to regret.

Still, looking at those lips, at the scar tissue in his cheek, there was so much to Eskel that begged to be explored with lips and fingertips. Jaskier told himself it would be different; he couldn’t imagine Eskel yelling at him. And he’d heard him yell once-- contrary to intimidation, it had just left Jaskier very warm in the pit of his stomach.

Jaskier swallowed down his thoughts and stepped off, saying now that Lambert wasn’t hogging the shitter, he needed to go.

If the other two men stared after him, he wouldn’t have known.

* * *

Geralt figured something out. He needed to _try_. Like Vesemir said. He cornered Eskel one evening at the restaurant they’d stopped at.

“I need you to do something.” Geralt began.

“Mm.” Eskel invited him to talk, moving closer, sensing the need for secrecy.

“We should do something for Jaskier. As a group.”

“Oh?” Eskel mulled that over. “Sounds nice, I’m in. What do you have in mind?”

“We’re going to cover some of his favorite original songs, have him perform on stage with us, maybe as an opener a couple times.”

“You think he’d like that?” Eskel seemed skeptical.

“He loves to perform. Just like us. He hasn’t been able to do that for a while, and I’m worried he misses it.”

“You’re worried, huh?” Eskel said, looking to where Jaskier was telling Vesemir and Lambert a story, pantomiming something outrageously. “I think you might be right. I’ll see if I can sneak the plan to Lambert.”

“I figured you guys would also appreciate the opportunity to play the new set you’ve been working on.” Geralt went on.

Guilt seized Eskel’s face. “Geralt, I…”

“I wrote about him too. This is part of the process. If he needs space, I’ll give him space.”

“We’ve been leaving you out. That’s not fair.”

“After what I did…”

Eskel watched him closely. Even now, he wasn’t sure what Geralt had _actually done_. “If we’re going to perform on stage, you’ll have to play the guitar. Lambert can’t do both, and Jaskier needs to be free for the song. Trust me.”

It was an excuse. Jaskier didn’t need freedom to make the song sound like he did, Geralt was confident. But it was an excuse offered, one that would pull him behind the curtain, and into the world he didn’t feel he deserved.

“Thank you.”

* * *

“No, no, no, that’s a habit you need to break.” Lambert said. “Put your hands on my throat, feel what it feels like when I scream each way.”

“Okay?” Jaskier sighed, feeling aggravated he was struggling.

“Fry screams are when your vocal cords are closed, like when you shut up. You’re forcing a small amount of air through them while they’re closed. That creates the distortion that is a fry scream. It’s a fart noise in your throat.”

“Right.”

“So, compared to how my throat feels when I talk, it feels like _aaaaaaaaaaaaah_ , see?”

“Ohh, okay.”

“Your turn. Fart with your vocal cords. Sexy, sexy fart noise. Come on, you can do it.”

“You’re making me laugh! Stop!”

“Relax a bit. Lemme grab your throat a bit so I can feel if you got it.”

“I need my own hand there so _I_ can tell!”

“My hand isn’t so damn big that your hand won’t fit on there, too.”

* * *

“I’m sorry I haven’t been helping you. Should I be taking a turn at the wheel? What can I do?” Jaskier asked.

Vesemir chuckled. “You’ll have plenty of time driving after this winter.”

“C’mon, though. I need to do _something_.”

“Like encouraging the boys to practice, play together, record new material, and generally get along better?”

Jaskier fell silent.

“And all in three weeks. I’m impressed.” Vesemir grinned at the road. “Honestly, it makes me happy to see you become essential to them. Like I am. It’s a good sign.” He said. “I know I’m leaving them in good hands, and I can finally retire peacefully.”

“I’ll make sure they don’t burn the bus down.”

“ _Good._ ” Vesemir grunted vehemently. “I wasn’t even here for it, and I have nightmares about it.”

“I’ll make sure they eat.”

“Less junk food, if you can. There’s a small kitchenette in here, for chrissake.”

“Can any of us cook?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Other than you?”

“Hmph. You would be truly surprised.”

“Guess you’re going to leave it to be a surprise. Sadist.”

Vesemir chuckled again. “Keep talking, boy. I’m getting tired and the signs are blurring.”

“Okay, no, switch me places and take a nap!”

* * *

Triss messaged Jaskier as he was setting up Twitch on Lambert’s laptop. “This is going to be a disaster.” Jaskier sang to himself. “Triss is gonna be the only one who pops in, it’s been too long since I last streamed.”

She said she was on the parkway, and had the auxiliary cord privileges. She’d traded the last two days’ worth for just this day. Jaskier would make it worth it.

He started up the stream, pulled Steel into his lap, and waited to make sure the stream was up properly, adjusting the laptop camera constantly.

Meanwhile, on stage, Geralt’s phone began to chime against his thigh. He signaled to Lambert that he had to piss, and once the song was over, he split to the room where Vesemir was holed up. He took his phone out--

“Boy! Get back out there and perform!”

“What if it’s Ciri? What if there’s an emergency?” Geralt barked.

“Give me the phone and get back out there!” Vesemir snatched the phone from Geralt’s hand. “I’m more capable of taking care of an emergency than you are. Three more songs until intermission, it’s fine, just go!”

Vesemir gave Geralt a minute to get back to the stage before unlocking Geralt’s phone. The password was common knowledge, so it was quick work. No missed calls. Just a notification from Twitch.

Vesemir clicked it. “Dandelion is Live! Come chat!”

Jaskier noticed another viewer immediately. “Welcome, friend! Feel free to chat, I know it’s a little dead right now, but that just means I can answer easier.”

Vesemir stared at the screen. “Where are you?” He typed.

When his message popped up, Jaskier read it back to him. “I’m so glad to see you ImSorry! It’s been a while! Oh, and um. I’ve been managing a metal band? I’m really excited about it, everyone’s been… nice to me. For the most part.”

_Geralt’s username is ImSorry?_

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.” Vesemir grumbled to himself.

“Time for some songs. Got a few fun ones to sing, along with a request from Merigold herself. First thing’s first, though. Let’s play an old favorite.”

Vesemir was loving this. Even though he wasn’t playing the mandolin, he still sounded like home. He wasn’t even mad that Jaskier hadn’t told him. He must have had his reasons.

He sure seemed happy to perform though, especially when more viewers came to interact.

“You guys want more old stuff?” Of course, the answer was yes. “Let’s go with something…” He smiled. “Soft.”

_Interesting_. Vesemir mused, watching Jaskier sing what was definitely a love song to his adoring audience. He had an idea, and typed something in.

“Dandelion. Could you do a cover of Who’s Lovin You by the Jackson 5?”

He smiled. “I would normally not give promises, but you’ve always been there for me, ImSorry. Gimme a couple weeks, and I’ll do it for you.”

 _Oh my fucking god._ Vesemir looked around, grounding himself. “Is this fucking real? The chathandle, the… everything. I’m going to beat his ass. This is too much.” Vesemir put the phone down, listening as Jaskier sang another song.

Vesemir glanced down to see “Merigold” typing up a storm. He didn’t get to read what she’d said, as Geralt, Lambert, and Eskel came in to the sound of Jaskier laughing and agreeing wholeheartedly to whatever she’d said.

Confusion flitted across every face. Vesemir kept his eyes trained on Geralt’s, though, watching recognition break through.

Jaskier broke through the resultant silence. “Oh, so, for everyone else, she’s talking about another request. A prank, if you will. The song is called Masked Bitch, and it’s… I don’t know. I didn’t think I’d like it at first, but it’s really fun to play. Might be a new favorite. Merigold wrote this transliteration, but I made a few tweaks to it. Let’s get into it, enjoy, babes!”

_**It’s irritating, the same thing every damn time,** _   
_**But when I break routine, I just get uneasy.** _   
_**Everything about you, your face, your stare, your everything,** _   
_**Ahh, I really detest it so.** _   
_**Don’t call it fate, don’t call it miracle, that can’t be right.** _   
_**All my expectations up till now have failed me** _   
_**I don’t care that you’re not the best at it, I’ll be fine if you do as I say,** _   
_**Just hold me tightly!** _

_**I’m not here for love, it’s just not for me,** _   
_**So it’s alright if you just go relentlessly.** _   
_**You can close your eyes, feel my breath quicken.** _   
_**Even if I’m someone else’s dream, dream it.** _   
_**It’s boring to dwell on losses of old,** _   
_**So you’ll just have to take me with you wherever you go** _   
_**Please just say my name and just adore me.** _   
_**You can make me yours as long as you let me feel you till it hurts.** _

_**I find it frustrating and troublesome, the day by day,** _   
_**Expectations of this world, a warped reality** _   
_**Even if you like the feeling of my fingers all down your back,** _   
_**It’s alright if it’s only for tonight** _   
_**Don’t call it lust, don’t call it envy, ‘cause that can’t be right.** _   
_**Don’t treat me like a child by going easily** _   
_**I’m not naive; it’s not like we have to be in love to do these things.** _   
_**Don’t look at me that way!** _

_**I’m not here for love, it’s just not for me.** _   
_**You may bind me or untie me however you’d like** _   
_**You can close your eyes and just hold your breath.** _   
_**Even if I’m someone else’s dream, dream it** _   
_**I can’t understand such feelings as guilt,** _   
_**So you’ll just have to take me with you wherever you go** _   
_**Please just say my name and just adore me.** _   
_**You can make me yours if you let me feel you until I corrupt.** _

_**Yeah, I’m not here for love, that shit’s not for me.** _   
_**Let’s get carried away, going relentlessly** _   
_**You can close your eyes, feel my breath quicken.** _   
_**Even if I’m someone else’s dream, dream it** _   
_**Don't leave me here to contemplate my loneliness.** _   
_**I can't blame you for turning away from me, baby** _   
_**Make me crave your touch, and make me your fool.** _   
_**But please don’t struggle, stay under this spell of mine, forever.** _   
_**My darling** _

Everyone was crowded around the phone, now. So they saw the hateful, devious look on Jaskier’s face when he said, “Eat your heart out, Keira. Happy birthday, bitch.”

To which, Lambert replied, instinctively: “It’s not her birthday; she’s a Saggitarius.”

“Okay, moving on!” Jaskier said. “Now that I’ve ruined someone’s week, let’s roll along with that momentum.” He was bopping around in his seat. “Fuck, that felt good. Gotta calm myself down. Let’s go back to something somber.”

“Guys, we gotta go back on stage.” Lambert said.

Eskel nodded and came with him, but Geralt lingered. “Don’t… say anything weird.”

Vesemir glared up at Geralt. “Name’s a bit on the nose, isn’t it?”

He grimaced. “Is this all there was?”

“Yep. Get out there. Sooner you satisfy the crowd, the sooner we can get back to the bus.”

Vesemir took the phone with him, listening as he went to get himself a well-earned iced tea. A Long Island iced tea.

“Okay, guys, I’m running out of time. Got enough for maybe one more song.” He said. “I’m having fun, though. Might reconsider if everyone’s having enough fun.” He hesitated. “Pick a song: happy or somber.”

The overwhelming majority chose happy.

“Mm. Okay, another oldie. This should be fun.”

“Hahh, this has been so fun. Lemme get a drink real quick, and I’ll see if we need one more song.”

Needless to say, they needed one more song. Vesemir was enjoying this. He’d been worried the boys had been rubbing off on him; seeing he hadn’t changed deep down was a relief.

“Okay guys. Promise you’ll sing along.”

This song had a lot to it, Vesemir felt. They all had, yes. Some of them even felt like they were letters personally addressed to Geralt. But this one was something more.

**_I hope we make it through. I hope the sea is just as blue as we dreamed._ **   
**_We’ve got a long way to climb until we see what we left behind._ **   
**_We wake to the sound of drums, and we are the soldiers of our own events_ **   
**_We are the keys to the kingdom… and we will never wear clothes again._ **

**_You get up, move around, every time you hear a sound_ **   
**_What do you expect to see every time you look at me?_ **   
**_All I know is, we’re gonna be alright._ **

**_Mercury summer, in the afternoon, I hope you come back soon._ **   
**_Mercury summer, just take your time, I hope to see you._ **

**_So how can you fall asleep so close to the fire that is keeping us warm?_ **   
**_We’re sleeping out in the rough. Just let me know when you’ve had enough_ **

**_You get up, move around, every time you hear a sound_ **   
**_What do you expect to see every time you look at me?_ **   
**_All I know is, we’re gonna be alright._ **

**_Mercury summer, in the afternoon, I hope you come back soon._ **   
**_Mercury summer, just take your time, I hope to see you._ **

**_Oooh, ooh… Mercury summer, in the afternoon…_**  
 ** _Mercury summer, just take your time, I hope to see you._**  
 ** _Mercury summer, in the afternoon, I hope you come back soon._**  
 ** _Mercury summer, just take your time, I hope to see you_**.

“Okay, guys. I have a lot to do tonight, and my voice is pleasantly raw. I think it’s time to rest. You guys are the best; hopefully I’ll be back sooner than last time.”

Vesemir closed out of the app, grinning. This was quite a bit of information to take in, but if he were right-- which he usually was, let’s be honest-- he might have figured out how to bring the boys’ heads together. All of them.

He just had to be patient. And that, he could do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone didn't know, I fucking love Mercury Summer. That song has murdered me so many times-- I wrote a whole Dragon Age Fenris/Anders fic about it. It's one of my least-known ones, but I'm still really proud of it. I cried A Lot while writing it. Just in case anyone else is/was in that fandom too. No pressure, just tears.


	7. What Does Humor Hold?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two of scream training.
> 
> Jaskier spends some much needed time with Eskel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I was writing this chapter, my partner was playing a standup album on spotify. One of the songs actually killed me. So I included it here so we can all mutually suffer. Also I like the idea of Eskel being the secret gentle joker. Lambert and Geralt, even Vesemir are all sticks in the mud. Eskel probably had to help them all smile at some point. Plus the way the guy sings this, I don't know, it felt right. So Please enjoy, but try to not read along with it if you can. Trust me.
> 
> WARNING: Light sexual content in the first part of the chapter. It's basically Jaskier's perspective of Seasons, from earlier.
> 
> 7/29/20 EDIT NOTES: Continuity issues; story has changed throughout writing from how originally imagined. This is a good thing. Will add in extra tidbits for anyone chancing a reread. Enjoy!

Once upon a time, things were simple. Or, at least Jaskier had thought they were. His thoughts were narrowed to a pinpoint on Geralt, and though he would always disappear in the winter, they would always meet back up just on the cusp of spring.

Back then, smiles were easier. Drink tasted better. Hell, _everything_ tasted better. Jaskier sang and danced around the house the week before he was supposed to meet up. He would go shopping for clothes to wear at their rendezvous.

Quite simply, Jaskier was in love.

They never addressed it, of course. Jaskier knew Geralt sucked at talking. Jaskier was content with the looks. With the way his hands lingered where they could be touched. The way he'd lean on him much more than needed when they stumbled back to their room after a night of cups.

Jaskier was all-too willing to believe he wasn't the only one who felt that way.

In fact, it was confirmed, in his mind, that fateful night. The biting cold of springtime snow, crunching under boots. The moon, full, in a momentarily clear sky. It felt like rain, a bit, Jaskier's fingers were numb when they stopped by the tree.

"Warm them up, then." Geralt had laughed.

"How do you suppose I do that?"

Geralt leaned against the tree on an arm, cornering him against the trunk. Jaskier's heart was in his throat.

"I'm very warm." Geralt responded, leaning in.

It was gentler than a kiss between two drunks should have been. Jaskier gasped against his mouth before a pitiful noise bubbled up and he clasped at whatever he could reach.

Geralt's face did feel quite warm under his hand.

Geralt seemed to have no problem deepening the kiss, stealing Jaskier's breath and leaving him criminally weak in the knees.

When he pulled back, they searched each other's eyes. For what felt like forever, they stood there beneath the tree, with Geralt’s fingers digging into the bark, Jaskier trying to catch his breath.

The hotel was close; the journey quickened by eager steps. The cold didn’t discourage their blood from boiling, nor the heat in their eyes. Clothing discarded at the door, layer after layer, helping each other to disentangle from scarves and socks and underwear.

Jaskier had never been handled quite that tenderly. Even though the monumental tension was finally broken, and the resultant need was spilling like a flood, from the moment Jaskier fell back onto the bed, laughing, pulling Geralt with him, Geralt savored him. He kissed him, tangled hands in hair, kissed every inch of him, some parts longer than others.

There was a mirror behind Geralt, and Jaskier glanced into it as Geralt entered him. The set of his shoulders, his bare ass as he rolled his hips. But then he looked back into those honeyed eyes. Before he could even plead for it, Geralt leaned in, kissing him again, as Jaskier moaned into his mouth, hands reaching for whatever returned the feelings he was given.

It was the first and only time Jaskier could say he’d made love.

Maybe that was why it hurt so much in retrospect.

And so now, seeing that same back, those same shoulders, those same eyes, Jaskier felt empty. Disillusioned, he knew what it had truly been back then. It _hadn’t_ been love. It had been convenience wrapped in trust. All he’d ever been was a fuck buddy who thought himself more. A proxy. Nothing would change that.

Whereas Geralt couldn’t face the things he’d said, Jaskier faced it every day. He’d let it set him free. He’d decided he didn’t need anything to tie his heart down. He could resist the pull of love he didn’t believe in. If all he was meant to be was a quick fuck, he could own that and make it look better than anyone else.

Yes, the feelings were there. They'd probably always be there. He didn't think he could change that, no matter what he did, who he fucked. Didn't mean he would ever shape his life around him again.

If all he was worth was what he made of himself, he wouldn’t waste time putting that worth in someone else’s priorities.

Sometimes he did wonder, though. He wondered why he ever believed in love at all.

* * *

“Time for your second lesson, my padawan.” Lambert slammed down a couple cans of diet coke.

“Padawan? Seriously, Lambkin?”

“You shall address me as Darth Lambsteak, like the sexy beast I am.”

“The Sith didn’t have padawans, they had apprentices.” Jaskier rolled his eyes.

“Okay, look, if I knew you were also a nerd, I would have come prepared.”

“I have the high ground.” Jaskier smirked.

“First: No you don’t, I do because _I’m_ currently teaching _you_. Second: Stop, I can only get so erect.”

They both laughed, but Lambert nudged the cans closer to Jaskier.

“What’s this for?”

“Lesson two. Like I just said. You deaf cunt.”

“Rude. By the way, I hate diet coke.”

“Just. Humor me. I’ll drink one, you drink the other. First one to crunch the can gets five dollars.”

“That’s not fair, you don’t have cash-- fuck!” Jaskier abandoned complaints when Lambert popped his can open and immediately began chugging. Jaskier followed suit, in a vain effort to compete. Lambert crunched the can against his forehead, because _of fucking course he did_. Jaskier just stared at him, holding his empty can and wondering how the fuck Lambert didn’t cut his forehead.

“Good job, padawan. Put your hands on my throat.” Lambert said quickly, grabbing his hands before he could finish talking. He sounded like he swallowed a full set of pool balls, and they were firmly lodged in his throat.

Under his fingertips, Lambert’s throat relaxed, and he let out an epic roar of a belch that shook the glass in the windows. “Your turn, your turn!” Lambert cheered.

“That’s so fucking gr---OOOOOOOOOOSS.” Jaskier’s eyes blew wide open as the belch left him.

Lambert almost fell over in the booth from laughing. “Ah, fuck. That was a good one, Junebug.”

“Lambert. I would ask why this is a lesson, but I don’t think it really was.”

“WRONG! It was. Did you feel all that air bubble up in your throat and how you made so much awesome noise without even using your voice?”

A pregnant pause. “Yes?”

“Great! So let’s get into that. You’re doing okay at fry screams now, but we need to step it up and do false cord screams. Basically it’s like that belch. Your vocal cords are not touching at all, wide fuckin open, and you’re pushing your entire lung capacity through them at a time. Instead of making distortion with your cords, though, you’re flapping the tissue in your neck around, like with the burp.”

“So screaming is always either a burp or a fart. In your throat.”

“EXACTLY! I’m so proud of you.” Lambert put his hands behind his head and leaned back. “Should have been a fucking teacher.”

“But if I use that much air and do it wrong, it’ll hurt my throat. I don’t want to wreck my voice.” Jaskier said.

Lambert straightened back up. “It won’t. Not if we take it bit by bit.” He grabbed Jaskier’s shoulders from across the table and shook him around a bit. “Relax your fucking shoulders, you’re not doing a fucking piano recital.”

“Fine, fine!”

“Okay, now channel your inner emo kid. Mom just told you you can’t go to Warped Tour.”

“What’s Warped Tour?”

_“Work with me, Junebug!”_

“I’m working with you, okay, I’m angsty. Like you.”

“Damn right. Now give me an over-dramatic sigh. Sound one million percent _done_. Groan into it like you want to dye your hair and paint your nails.”

They sat there, each with a hand on the other’s throat. Lambert did one. Jaskier did one. Lambert did one. Jaskier did one. They laughed at each other.

“Okay, okay. Now put _less groan and voice into it_. Keep up the force of air, keep your body relaxed, but gradually lessen the voice in it, make it voiceless.” And for good measure, he demonstrated.

“I don’t think I can do that.” He said. “I don’t understand how to be voiceless.”

“C’mon, it’s just like the burp. You’re gonna do it, and you’re going to make _every motherfucker_ in a four-mile radius hard as a fuckin rock just from the sheer amazingness of it. Lemme see that pretty mouth summon a demon!”

“Isn’t ‘demon’ what you call your dick?”

“I’m in a four-mile radius, aren’t I?” Lambert said impatiently. “C’mon. Do it or I’m gonna make you drink more diet coke.”

Jaskier made a face like _Oh, yeah, no I don’t want that._ and geared himself up to do it.

Vesemir’s voice rang out. “Who’s been drinking my goddamn cokes?!”

* * *

It had been hard to sit around with Eskel lately; he always seemed to be busy with something. Sometimes he and Lambert were doing it together-- sometimes Geralt was. Jaskier figured he couldn’t expect to be rammed up their asses 24-7 anyway.

It was a relief _and_ a surprise when Eskel came to Jaskier to ask for lyrical help again.

“I’ve been working on some new stuff. Hoped to give you something nice to chew on.”

_Oh, god, don’t say that._

Jaskier had missed sitting and shooting the shit with Eskel. He was surprisingly easy to read, and once you proved you were a kind soul, he was always quick with a joke. Clever, genuine, and brilliant.

He was also built like a championship strongman, with a bit of heft to his middle. He was built for stability; he looked like he could pick Jaskier up and spin him over his head. Jaskier had learned that if he tried to hug Eskel, he could only barely get his arms around his waist.

“Have you been listening to any of our old material?”

Jaskier flinched from his reverie. “Some of it. Why? Got suggestions?”

“Always.” He replied, flipping through his notebook for last time’s notes. “Hurting Not Helping. Look it up while I get this ready.”

“Surely it won’t take that long…” Jaskier joked.

“Humor me. What I’ve been working on is a mess.”

Jaskier took out his tablet and typed in the song. “It’s not showing up.”

Eskel looked perplexed before he grunted. “Oh, yeah. It’s from when we first started… back when it was just me and Geralt.”

“Is this back when he sang?” Jaskier asked, his disinterest masking curiosity.

Eskel hummed in agreement like he always did.

“What did it sound like, then? How can I find it?”

Eskel grinned at him. “It should be on Geralt’s facebook.”

“I--” _I may still have him blocked._

“Or…”

“Or…?”

“It could be on Geralt’s phone. I wonder if he minds me showing you.”

“Is it on your phone, too, by chance?”

“What?” Eskel shrugged. “Probably not.”

“ _Probably_ not?” Jaskier paused. “You _really_ want me to look through Geralt’s phone or facebook for this song?”

“I’m still going through these notes. It’s gonna be a minute.”

“You are _so_ full of shit.”

“Mmm.”

“I’m not going through Geralt’s stuff, physically or digitally.”

“I know. I’ve been teasing you this whole time.” Eskel said. “Look it up under our old band name, Burealize.”

There was a pause. “How do you spell that, I’m still coming up with nothing.”

Eskel ended up taking the phone and typing it in himself, pulling up the video, and discarding the notebook altogether. He handed the phone back and watched Jaskier’s face intently.

_What does he expect me to do?_

As Jaskier watched the lyric video, Eskel watched his expression with a neutral face. Watched his eyes narrow as the lyrics painted a scenario he hadn’t expected. He watched, because Eskel wanted to see just how over Geralt Jaskier really was.

Not for… _personal_ reasons, of course. _Certainly_ not because he was afraid of his own thoughts. Afraid of being a stand-in. A consolation prize. If he were anything at all.

There was a level to the song that wouldn't reach further than Geralt's head. He had no emotional intelligence, and so when he tried to organize his thoughts, they still never came out right. With time, practice, and more songs, he finally got a little better.

But this was raw. This was the start. And this was a song about regretting, but feeling that it might have been for the best in the end. And now that it was really over, he can admit that it had been real-- and now the one person who he should have told would ever know.

_**Right when I needed you most, don't you move** _   
_**Keep your feet planted right where you stand** _   
_**Right where I need you here, so much closer than before** _

_**It's finally over… No pretending, this is real** _

_**I should have never brought you here** _   
_**I should have told you from the start to run** _   
_**I should have never let you leave** _   
_**(You were the only one)** _   
_**I should have never brought you here** _   
_**I should have told you from the start to run** _   
_**I should have never let you leave** _

_**Cut off at arms length, Tell me I'm everything** _   
_**Still it means nothing to you** _   
_**The threat of letting go, This pain, an empty room** _

_**It's finally over… No pretending, this is real** _

_**I should have never brought you here** _   
_**I should have told you from the start to run** _   
_**I should have never let you leave** _   
_**(You were the only one)** _   
_**I should have never brought you here** _   
_**I should have told you from the start to run** _   
_**I should have never let you leave** _

_**We kiss and we say goodnight** _   
_**You walk away and I can't think twice** _   
_**The thoughts run over and over** _

_**It's finally over… It’s finally over… it’s finally over...** _

_**I should have never brought you here** _   
_**I should have told you from the start to run** _   
_**I should have never let you leave** _

_**Right when I needed you most, don't you move** _   
_**Keep your feet planted right where you stand** _   
_**Right where I need you here, so much closer than before** _

_**It's finally over. It's finally over. It's finally over.** _

Jaskier looked up at Eskel. “What is this?”

“I was hoping you could help me figure that out.”

“Well… he sounded okay, I guess, but his screams have improved a lot since then, I’d say.”

“Anything else?”

Jaskier looked away, putting the tablet down. “Probably wrote it about Yen.”

Eskel let the silence hang there. But then… “What if he didn't?”

Jaskier’s jaw twitched. “I don’t think it changes anything.”

Eskel saw the nerves in him, he was making himself small. Old wounds and all. He felt kind of like a dick. Afraid to address his own business, but always addressing everyone else’s.

“I found my notes.”

“Your notebook is on the floor.”

“I reviewed them.”

Jaskier watched Eskel grab the guitar. “Is that so?” His stare softened.

“Yeah. Wanna play it for you. Be prepared to give me some feedback.”

“Oh? You’re gonna sing?”

“Mmmmm, yeah.” He gave that signature crooked grin.

_**In life there are many things** _   
_**Some of them are the same and some are opposites** _   
_**About some of these things I do sing** _

_**A cactus is the opposite of a chair** _   
_**In my house you can sit anywhere but there** _   
_**especially if your ass is bare** _

_**A bird house is not the same as a bird home** _   
_**one is much more comfortable for birds** _

_**These are sames and opposites my friend** _   
_**which I determined** _

_**A musical is the same as a burlap sack** _   
_**I would not want to be in either** _

_**A squirrel is the same as a can** _   
_**when there's a BB gun in my hand** _   
_**Can't you see that I am just a man?** _   
_**With distinctions and comparisons** _

_**Spare change is the same as wedgies for me** _   
_**I don't give it unless someone's really asking** _

_**Saying I apologize is the very same** _   
_**as saying I'm sorry, they're the same** _   
_**Unless you're at a funeral** _

_**To live is the same as to dream** _   
_**If you do both long enough you'll see** _   
_**But you have to work in between** _   
_**Unless you have narcolepsy** _

_**(That was a boring solo)** _

_**Earrings are the same as sneezes** _   
_**Two is okay but ten in a row is annoying** _   
_**If you have two then God bless you** _

_**These are sames and opposites my friend** _   
_**which I have determined** _

_**A secret admirer is the same as a stalker** _   
_**With stationery** _

_**An ex-girlfriend is the same as an okay movie** _   
_**I liked it at the time but I don't want to see it again** _   
_**Especially if the movie was kind of a bitch** _

_**These are sames and opposites my friend** _   
_**which I have determined** _   
_**So far** _

Jaskier figured out pretty quickly this wasn’t a serious song, but he didn’t care because it was fucking funny. Eskel knew how to time his jokes, and he tapped his foot to keep time, loudly blaring random vocalizations at intervals, followed by softer random vocalizations.

The two of them shared the moment after the song ended, Jaskier wheezing a bit, Eskel grinning like an idiot. “Three words or less?”

_Be a comedian._

Jaskier couldn’t manage to form one.

* * *

Another time, when stage setup was underway, Eskel had showed Jaskier how he assembled his kit. Then, he ~~showboated~~ displayed his drum prowess. Eskel was a master of double bass, his feet moving so fast, his calves flexing as he bounced his legs. He made it look effortless, smiling up at Jaskier as he twirled a stick, carrying the beat with one hand.

Afterward, he’d just stared at Jaskier and waited, eyebrows raised in silent question.

“How do you do that?” Jaskier asked.

Eskel got up and gestured for Jaskier to take a turn. “What are you wanting to learn?”

“Is it…” Jaskier cautiously sat down. The foot pedal was stiffer than he’d expected. It took a lot more effort to push it down than he’d thought it would. He made no attempt to twirl the sticks. “Is it difficult to maintain one pattern with your feet and another with your hands?”

“Hmm…” Eskel leaned down over Jaskier’s shoulder, positioning his arms before grabbing his wrists and helping him make a simple beat. “Maybe. I don’t see it that way. It’s all one pattern.” He said. “Do you find it difficult to strum and do fingerwork at the same time?”

Jaskier shook his head. “But that’s just hands.”

“You sing at the same time.” Eskel said. “It’s just multitasking, practice, muscle memory, and having a setup that never varies. If you move one of my drums one centimeter to the left, I will go apeshit.”

Jaskier smiled. “Noted.” The smell of Eskel’s cologne, something like cedar and some sort of spice that reminded him of warmth and comfort. Cloves? Allspice? He wasn’t sure. It was earthy, though, and fitting. Having Eskel more or less hugging him from the back, with those monstrous pecs pressed into his shoulders, was just as distracting.

“If I let go of your hands, you’ll keep playing the pattern.” Eskel whispered into his ear.

“Will I?” Jaskier responded breathlessly, feeling concussed.

Sure enough, he continued playing when the solid warmth of Eskel’s ham-sized mitts left his wrists. He remained close, the warmth of him sinking through Jaskier’s clothes. He hummed approval, his breath moving the hair just above his ear and causing chillbumps to race up his exposed arms.

 _You are a fucking sadist._ Jaskier bit his lip but continued to play. _Praise me **more**._

As if he’d heard him, Eskel continued to teach him, gently, with that dark burr of his wreaking havoc on his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For our next chapter, we have a choice. 
> 
> Do we want Fun or Sad? 
> 
> Fun: Triss arrives and she, Zoltan, and Jaskier enjoy the concert together.  
> Sad: Lambert's secret notebook and songs are revealed, and there are Really Sad Feels. 
> 
> Vote in the comments, but don't worry; I will write both, I just wanna see what you guys are more eager for! (I do this on a lot of my fics)


	8. Another Name on a List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lambert has a bad day, and lets Jaskier in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started thinking about the idea for this chapter at work the other day and actually had to fight not to cry when I thought of the songs. So be prepared.
> 
> We're gonna be talking about what happened to Coen in this AU. Timely mention of the rioting, too. Bear in mind I didn't read the books (i can't find them T.T) so I'm going with what I've seen referenced in other fics as well as my gut. Hope it hits right but plz be kind lmao.
> 
> 7/29/20 EDIT NOTES: Continuity issues; story has changed throughout writing from how originally imagined. This is a good thing. Will add in extra tidbits for anyone chancing a reread. Enjoy!

There was a dark silence in Lambert today. Eskel tried to get him to lighten up, but Lambert only stared blankly past him. Eskel had looked to Jaskier as if to say, _he’ll come around_ , but he wouldn’t meet Jaskier’s eyes.

At some point, he holed up on his cot with his noise-cancelling headphones, working on his laptop, with a battered, coffee-stained notebook splayed at his feet. When he finally looked up, saw Jaskier staring at him, he cracked the headphones away from one ear and nodded for him to sit down.

Carefully, Jaskier picked up the notebook and closed it so he wouldn’t be tempted to read. Lambert put the headphones around his neck, and Jaskier could hear music blaring in them. Something that didn’t sound like Lambert.

“Vesemir tell you?” Lambert asked.

“About what?”

Lambert sighed in aggravation. “He tell you about Coen?”

“I… I’ve heard a little.”

Silence reigned for a minute, Lambert clicked and typed a little bit before shuffling around to where he sat against the wall, legs hanging off, next to Jaskier. He opened his porn folder. Within it were two folders: Actual Porn and Fuck Off. He clicked on Fuck Off. The computer staggered to load all the files inside. Audio files, videos, and what must have been a few hundred pictures.

“You would’ve liked him.” Lambert said, pulling up a picture. Lambert shirtless with cargo shorts, the man next to him in acid washed jeans and a camo shirt.

“Are those cowboy boots?” Jaskier pointed. “Are _both_ of you wearing cowboy boots?”

Lambert huffed a small laugh, but the numbness still showed in his face. “He was the only one who called Vesemir ‘Dad,’ I guess. Took to the country life like he’d never known anything else.” He traded out the headphones for his recording ones, the ones that went in the ear and clipped to a shirt. He passed one earphone to Jaskier. “He was an avid Garth Brooks fan. Couldn’t stand that shit, but he liked it. Bought him the whole discography when I got my first job.”

He clicked on a track. “Wanna see how I broke my voice the first time?” Lambert asked, already pulling the track up without answer. “I wrote him a few songs. More than a few, really. I wish I’d been earlier, so he could have heard them.”

Jaskier stared at the screen, blinking again and again. He wanted to ask “This is _you_?” But he could still hear it in there, somewhere. It was in the language he used, the way he was trying to reassure _someone_ , but at the same time forcing the blame on himself. It felt more like he was lying to himself to the tune. _Please don’t feel sorry for me_.

_**Alright, I know I'm the only one to blame.** _   
_**I locked myself out in the pouring rain** _   
_**I beat myself up and I knock myself down** _   
_**'Cause you can't be lost if you don't wanna be found** _

_**No, I don't feel sorry for myself. I don't feel sorry for myself** _   
_**It's all my fault, can't you tell That I don't feel sorry for myself?** _   
_**Sorry for myself, uh** _

_**I'm hard headed, I'm set in my ways** _   
_**I don't need help, I don't need your savior** _   
_**I'm only happy when I got a foot in the grave** _   
_**Call it an excuse for my bad behavior** _

_**'Cause I don't feel sorry for myself. No, I don't feel sorry for myself** _   
_**It's all my fault, can't you tell That I don't feel sorry for myself?** _   
_**Sorry for myself** _

_**I'll build up my walls, beat myself black and blue** _   
_**There's nothing at all anyone can do** _

_**'Cause I don't feel sorry for myself. No, I don't feel sorry for myself** _   
_**It's all my fault, can't you tell That I don't feel sorry for myself?** _   
_**Sorry for myself, sorry for myself, yeah** _   
_**Woo!** _

_**I don't feel sorry for myself, And I don't feel sorry for myself**_  
 _ **It's all my fault, can't you tell That I don't feel sorry for myself?**_  
 _ **Sorry for myself**_ /

Jaskier felt the pain in his throat, but he couldn’t immediately tell if he was trying to swallow down something he didn’t know how to address, or if it was because the thought of hitting those notes himself felt like sandpaper in his throat.

Lambert looked at him, waiting.

“We can’t all sound like, what did you say that time?”

“Yeah. Like CMT took a shit in our mouths.” Lambert’s mouth hitched. "Wanted to write something he'd have liked."

“I love it, Lambert. You worked hard on it. That sounds like you’ve been producing it for years.”

“I have.” He whispered. “Every time I get stuck in my head, I come back to these songs. If I hadn’t…” Lambert took a deep breath. “He was different.”

He scrolled aimlessly through the folder, pulling up a video of him and Coen trying to pull a four-wheeler out of the mud. Lambert fell over and they laughed. They were at most sixteen, and Coen braced his arms on his knees laughing. Vesemir, behind the camera, laughed. Lambert threw a handful of mud into Coen’s face, hit him in the mouth. Then at Vesemir, obscuring the camera as Vesemir’s laugh turned to shouts.

“Back when we were in the System together, we stuck together. All the time. I wouldn’t let anyone take me if they wouldn’t take him, because I knew… I knew what the world offered kids like us. When Vesemir agreed to take both of us, I thought it was too good to be true and I panicked. A lot. Eskel helped.”

Lambert scrolled again, this time settling on another picture. Camo hoodie and tight jeans, baseball cap and shades. Military hair cut. Holding a pink pony plush. Fairgrounds. Lambert is behind him shoving an entire funnel cake into his mouth.

“I only ever got to be me with him.” Lambert swallowed, his voice rough. “He was everything. And I don’t just… we weren’t _brothers_. We-we were best friends. We kept secrets, joined at the hip, we…” He let out a shaky breath. “I should have gone with him.”

“To school?”

“He knew if i went to a school at all, it’d be a trade school. He was a bookworm.”

 _Didn’t look like one_. Jaskier thought, studying a video of Coen and Lambert doing pushups in competition. They both moved effortlessly, in tandem.

“He got accepted into a good school, on a scholarship, with extra funds because he was a Hard One and we usually don’t try for college. He was excited.”

Jaskier wondered if it was right to ask. Finally, he decided to try. “What happened to him?”

“We came home and his break was supposed to come around. When he never showed up, I asked Vesemir if he’d heard anything. He wasn’t emailing me or answering my calls. I was starting to panic.” He paused. “He couldn’t tell me. I get that now… I…”

Group picture of them all as teenagers, covered in sweat and grit, on the porch overlooking the fields they’d been working, drinking something and squinting at the camera in midday sunlight. It occurred to Jaskier that Vesemir loved all his boys more than he originally let on.

“There were protests there. Coen had this big heart and wanted to help. He brought milk cartons and water bottles. When it all went south, with tear gas and rubber bullets and…” Lambert sneered, nose running. “They saw a threat in a man who only wanted to help people. I don’t know who he saved, and I don’t care. I lost something I can’t ever get back. Does that make me a prick?”

Jaskier scooted closer, surprised when Lambert’s head lolled onto his shoulder. “You’re not a prick. You just act like one sometimes.”

“It’s easier to not care.” Lambert said. “If you care about something, it has power. And I’m tired of being powerless.”

His chin quivered and he bit down on his cheek, eyes set hard. “It doesn’t feel real. It never will. I think all the time about getting home and telling him about the tours. Giving him gifts. Hugging the goddamn air out of him so hard I break his fucking spine…” He let out a harsh breath, his throat straining from the effort of containing his emotions. “He’ll always be alive for me, and it fucking hurts because I don’t know how to find him.”

There was a tense silence as Lambert continued to scroll, back and forth. “There are lots of songs on here. I don’t want to keep them locked up forever… but I can’t sing them, Jas. I can’t.” His voice broke. “Every time I try, I just…”

“It’s okay.” Jaskier said. “Do you have them?”

“I… got them. Took me years, bits at a time. But I got them.” He breathed, focusing on evening himself out. He clicked on one file but didn’t open it. “This one.” He handed his other earphone to Jaskier. “I need a coke and… some cookies.”

Considering Lambert had refused breakfast, Jaskier considered that a good sign, even if it was just junk food.

Now, though, Jaskier stared at the title of the song with a sinking feeling in his stomach. With another click, he opened _Die For You_.

_**I will run alone tonight Without you by my side** _   
_**I guess you had a place you had to get to** _   
_**I know your eyes, I know inside The walls you hide behind** _   
_**And I saw the truth inside the real you** _

_**Because I know you're lost when you run away** _   
_**Into the same black holes and black mistakes** _   
_**Taking all my will just to run alone** _   
_**When are you coming home?** _

_**Even if the sky does fall Even if they take it all** _   
_**There's no pain that I won't go through** _   
_**Even if I die for you** _   
_**And when all the fires burn When everything is overturning** _   
_**There's no thing that I won’t go through** _   
_**Even if I die for you** _

_**One day the Earth will open wide And I’ll follow you inside** _   
_**Cause the only hell I know is without you** _   
_**Some day when galaxies collide We'll be lost on different skies** _   
_**I will send my rocket ship to find you** _

_**Because I know you're lost when you run away** _   
_**Into the same black holes and black mistakes** _   
_**Taking all my will just to run alone** _   
_**Until I bring you home** _

_**Even if the sky does fall Even if they take it all** _   
_**There's no pain that I won't go through** _   
_**Even if I die for you** _   
_**And when all the fires burn When everything is overturning** _   
_**There's no thing that I won’t go through** _   
_**Even if I die for you** _

_**And if the sun grows cold for you along the way** _   
_**And when the stars don’t line to light the way** _   
_**And when you fall away and crash back down below** _   
_**I’ll search the skies for you and I’ll follow** _   
_**I'll be in your afterglow** _   
_**And I’ll bring you home** _

_**Even if the sky does fall Even if they take it all** _   
_**I can't see but I'll follow you** _   
_**Even if I die...** _

_**And when all the fires burn When everything is overturning** _   
_**There's no thing that I won’t go through** _   
_**Even if I die for you** _

Jaskier was distantly aware that he was grossly sobbing. When Lambert appeared in his peripherals, he hurried to mop his face off.

Lambert handed him a cookie.

“Told you the shit in my porn folder would age you.” He said.

* * *

The songs in the folder started to come out more. And just the same, so did a subtle change in Lambert. When the bad days came, they were rarer than before, and he wasn’t alone in the bunk, locked away from the world.

It helped to share. It helped him piece together something that grew in his brain. An image of Coen looking at Jaskier and then back to Lambert, with that calm, complete understanding.

Coen would have changed over the years, he mused. Grown that buzzcut out, stopped wearing those hats so he didn’t get a bald spot. Would have been getting close to his degree by now, looking for internship in a law firm. Always fighting someone else’s wars.

Would have been funny to see him in a suit. Lambert would have swelled with the pride of it, seeing Coen accomplish his dreams like that, and then he would have laughed at this roughneck trying to adjust his dick to fit in those dress pants.

Lambert couldn’t imagine what Coen would think of how he felt. He knew he wouldn’t be happy to know he’d caused this much pain. But the things Lambert most wanted to do with Coen were things he did with Jaskier now. The guilt that came with that wasn’t as much as he’d thought-- and that made him feel a proper amount of guilt.

The same jokes, the same teachings, the same antics… but Jaskier was different.

He was just _different_. And Coen would have understood that. Maybe Coen would be the one to swell with pride.

But for now, he could keep working on these songs. They could be about multiple people.

No one had to know.

* * *

Eskel’s eyebrows were up in his hairline. Geralt looked like he was having an aneurysm. Jaskier tapped his foot impatiently. “What’s the big deal. He wants to do a song. I’ve heard it, and it’s amazing. With you two on board, it’ll be even better.”

Geralt looked at the lyrics again. “Lambert… this is…”

“Cheesy, I know.” Lambert sighed. “Look, forget I asked.”

“I like it.” Geralt said. “I just don’t know what to do with it.” He cleared his throat. “I mean…”

Eskel groaned. “He means he doesn’t want to mess it up. This is personal to you.”

“Maybe.” Lambert said. “Maybe not. Maybe I got my head out of my ass and figured that you guys need to vent too.” He gestured at Geralt. “Especially Mr. Crown Emo Prince over here.”

Geralt growled and rolled his eyes. “Show us the track you have and we’ll start working out what’s what.”

Jaskier saw Lambert’s confidence shrink slightly. He moved a bit closer, bumping into him just a bit. “I already have the notation written out.” He handed the paper to Eskel, who now looked fully perplexed.

“Oh, wow. This is detailed.” He looked up at Jaskier in question, but Jaskier only nodded to Lambert as if to say _It’s all his_.

“Okay.” Lambert reached in and hit the play button. He clenched his hands behind his back and waited, stock still.

_**Mayday, Mayday, the ship is slowly sinking.** _   
_**They think I’m crazy, but they don’t know the feeling.** _   
_**They’re all around me, circling like vultures.** _   
_**They wanna break me and wash away my colors.** _   
_**Wash away my colors!** _

_**Take me high and I’ll sing, oh you make everything** _   
_**Okay, okay, okay (‘kay, okay, okay!)** _   
_**We are one in the same, oh you take all of the pain** _   
_**Away, away, away (‘way, away, away!)** _   
_**Save me if I become My demons.** _

_**I cannot stop this sickness taking over.** _   
_**It takes control and drags me into nowhere.** _   
_**I need your help I can’t fight this forever.** _   
_**I know you’re watching, I can feel you out there!** _

_**Take me high and I’ll sing, oh you make everything** _   
_**Okay, okay, okay (‘kay, okay, okay!)** _   
_**We are one in the same, oh you take all of the pain** _   
_**Away, away, away (‘way, away, away!)** _   
_**Save me if I become My demons.** _

_**Take me over the walls below.** _   
_**Fly forever, don’t let me go.** _   
_**I need a savior to heal my pain** _   
_**When I become my worst enemy** _   
_**The enemy…** _

_**Take me high and I’ll sing** _   
_**You make everything okay.** _   
_**We are one and the same** _   
_**You take all of the pain away.** _

_**Take me high and I’ll sing, oh you make everything** _   
_**Okay, okay, okay (‘kay, okay, okay!)** _   
_**We are one in the same, oh you take all of the pain** _   
_**Away, away, away (‘way, away, away!)** _   
_**Save me if I become My demons.** _

This had been an ambitious undertaking, the mixing that Lambert had done. He’d shown Jaskier the bare bones of the song, and Jaskier had insisted on helping with the harmonies. It was a good way to implement those singing lessons, make him practice safe voice, as it were.

But it was also because Jaskier loved his voice. He didn’t sound like he used to. He was raspier and rougher, but it sounded nice. He couldn’t wait to throw him at some other songs, see him really shine.

In the meantime, this song and it’s impressive electronic elements and synthetic orchestra was moving and not too personal. Lambert could sing it without breaking down, and seemed to love that Jaskier would join in if he started humming it.

Eskel immediately latched onto the song. “I love the drum patterns you used, honestly.”

“Gotta give you the kick drums.” Lambert fingergunned. "Totally didn't spend hours googling drum patterns to do it, either."

“Love the strings, too.” He went on. “The violins and such.”

Geralt grunted. “I didn’t expect it to be…”

“Singing?” Lambert provided, smirking.

“Yeah. Thought you quit doing that.” No, he was not jealous that everyone else got to sing with Jaskier but him.

“I never turn down a challenge.” He said.

Geralt looked at the lyrics again, then at Jaskier. For a moment, they stood there, a one-sided conversation in silence. Geralt looked away, handed the notebook back to Lambert. “I like it. Next time we set up, we can kick it around while we’re testing.”

Lambert nodded.

Eskel went on. “This winter, we should record a new album. It’s been awhile since we did our last one, and… I mean, we’re not hurting for tracks to put on it.”

Jaskier smiled at them all. Even Geralt. “I’m gonna tell Vesemir to take us somewhere nice tonight. Think we’ve earned it.”

* * *

They ate at Red Lobster and it was nice. Vesemir cringed at the check but he was too full of cheddar biscuits to give a shit.

Geralt ate half his weight in crab legs while Eskel struggled to get any meat out of his, even with the little forks they give to try and pry the shells open. Geralt had to help him, and by then his crab was all cold.

Lambert ate three lobster tails. One of them was Jaskier’s, who had remarked he didn’t like the texture. “It’s like rubber.”

Lambert wasted no time. “Well, let it be known,” he started, mouth already full, “I love rubber in my mouth.”

Jaskier reached for the last cheddar biscuit, but his hand was smacked away by Vesemir. He returned to his shrimp scampi with a fake pout. The cheddar biscuit found its way onto his plate when Vesemir got up to go pay the check.

Once again, drink tasted better. Food felt more nourishing. His heart was light, his smiles came easy.

He was glad he’d taken this job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a fluffy dinner at the end, hoping it would negate some of the sads. 
> 
> We have about one more chapter before Actual Plot hits. Get ready, it's a doozy. 
> 
> What do you think the plot is? I wanna hear some fun theories.


	9. Glow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier gets a visit from a friend?
> 
> Let's touch some faces and chests and play with blacklights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had a bit too much fun coming up with this playlist. By that I mean you guys are gonna hate me.
> 
> A little extra love for Lambert since everyone seems to like that, and some extra sweetness from Eskel because everyone seems to like that. You'll know it when you see it.
> 
> 7/29/20 EDIT NOTES: Continuity issues; story has changed throughout writing from how originally imagined. This is a good thing. Will add in extra tidbits for anyone chancing a reread. Enjoy!

Jaskier and Zoltan were getting things set up while Eskel, Geralt, and Lambert talked out what they each wanted for the song.

“Everything alright? You keep looking at them like they’re gonna explode.” Zoltan asked.

“Just making sure they play nice.” He muttered, turning back to Zoltan, who was fixing him with the most incredulous stare he’d ever seen.

“You’re fuckin kidding me. Are you fucking them all?”

Jaskier’s whole body cringed. “ _What?_ Where did this come from?”

“Ohh, no. If you’re not fucking them, I know what that look is.”

“You know _nothing_. There is _no look_.”

Zoltan hitched an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “I’ll believe you. Just this once. But have fun convincing Triss.”

Jaskier made a horrible noise as he realized that that was a very valid point. Triss would be there for tonight’s performance. Jaskier would be catching her up on things, showing her he was doing fine.

She could see through his bullshit every time. _Not that he was bullshitting anything._

* * *

“Jaskier.”

He did not want to hear that voice. No, no. “Why are you here?”

Yennefer rolled her eyes, her black painted lips quirked in a sarcastic smile. “To make sure you still remember what I taught you. Of course.”

“Where’s Ciri? Is she here too?”

“No, she’s staying the night at her girlfriend’s house.”

Jaskier cocked his head. “Wow, okay. So…”

“You’re aware Geralt, Lambert, and Eskel have an image they’re meant to maintain on stage, yes?”

“Geralt just drinks fucked up shit to make his face look weird.”

“That won’t do. Hide those.” She said.

“I don’t know where they are _to_ hide them.”

Yennefer went to Geralt’s bunk, poked around. She slunk around the bus, prodding around until she heard the movement of liquid in bottles. “You didn’t look hard enough.” She called.

“So sue me, I didn’t want to go through your man’s stuff.”

She scoffed. “He’s hardly that.” She looked Jaskier up and down. “You look good, though. I’m glad.”

“Pull the other one.”

“Right.” She sighed. “Well, I’m not here to pay compliments, I’m here to give you something.”

“Something?”

“Believe it or not, this wasn’t my idea. But since you weren’t hard to teach last time--”

“And, hey, Yen… I do appreciate that.”

“I can tell. Your contouring is gorgeous and natural. Certainly better with practice.”

“Why are all your compliments so backhanded.” Jaskier deadpanned.

“Why are you constantly interrupting me?” She retorted. “I’m here not just to teach you how to do their makeup for performances, but your own. Sit down.”

Jaskier sat down, if for no other reason, so he could think. “Why would I need stage makeup for myself?”

“Something about a fifteen minute long set, maybe more. That's what I was told.” Her lilac eyes darted over her tools as she fanned them out, pulling more from a bag at her side. “I’ll leave some of this stuff for you, and I’ll email you some videos of me doing their makeup for reference. For now, though…”

Her smile was not trustworthy. “I hope you’re not planning to disfigure me.” He said.

“Only a little.” She replied. “You know what they say: if the men find out we can shapeshift, they’re going to tell the church.”

Jaskier huffed a laugh as she began to apply a base.

“Your hair is getting longer. It looks nice.” Another pause. “Do you need it cut, or will you trust me to style it with extensions?”

“Oh, god, why.” Jaskier groaned.

“Simply because I want to see everyone else react to you pulling it off better than them and be pissed because I didn’t do their makeup tonight, as well.”

Jaskier sighed. “Fine. Just this once.”

She found a way to make a giggle sound dark and sultry.

* * *

“I think it’s very fitting.” Yennefer said, smirking just beyond the mirror.

“I look. Like a clown had sex with Brandon Lee from The Crow.”

“Fitting, yes?”

Jaskier ran his fingers through the extensions. “Wow, this is fun. I look…” He turned this way and that. “Oh, wow, I actually love it? I look like a carnival barker.”

“Perfect for your current role in the band.” She said. “But then you open your mouth and the illusion is ruined.”

Jaskier glared at her. An idea struck, and he cleared his throat a bit. She saw some machinations in his face and hitched a brow. But she was still not prepared when Jaskier unleashed his false cord scream in her face.

“What do you say to that?” He was a little bit too satisfied.

She shook her head a bit. “Your breath smells like hot dogs.”

Channeling his inner Lambert, he responded, “Because unlike you, I get wiener in my mouth.”

Yennefer’s eyes nearly rolled back in her head. “You are even more of a little goblin now than you were six years ago.”

“But I’m happy.” He said.

She turned on her heels and beckoned him with her. “Good for you. Come on, now. I have clothing for you as well.”

* * *

Lambert stared at the person on their stage. “Who the fuck is that?”

Yennefer sat back and watched the realization dawn on them. Triss, meanwhile, sat with Zoltan behind her. All of them enjoyed the scene as Jaskier got up to the mic and started enthusiastically hyping up the opener band to the first few people filing into the stage area.

“Oh my fucking god.” Lambert said. “Oh my god. No. Now I'll have to go out there and play with an erection.”

“Pull a Murderface and play the bass with your dick.” Eskel remarked.

Lambert turned to them, pointing at Jaskier. “ _Tell_ me he doesn’t look fantastic.”

Eskel’s voice hardened. “Tell me he doesn’t _always_ look fantastic.”

Geralt pushed himself between them. “Yennefer’s watching us. This is her doing.”

“Who cares who did it, _look at him_.” Lambert cried. “We have a hype man, now!”

Eskel shook his head and laughed.

Jaskier was coming back their way, now. All three had to act like they weren’t staring. Jaskier grabbed Eskel and Lambert by the arm and threw over his shoulder that Geralt should follow too. He took them to a table where Yen’s gift palette was. “The opening act is going to be on stage in two minutes. Their set is fifteen minutes. I have fifteen minutes to do all your faces.”

“Yes, please.” Lambert joked.

Jaskier dolloped a smear of facepaint on Lambert’s nose. “Rub that shit in.” He then did the same on Eskel and Geralt. By the time the other two had finished rubbing it in, Jaskier had a good headstart into painting on Lambert.

“I’m gonna do something she won’t expect, and get detailed.” He said, painting on Lambert’s eyelids in glow-in-the-dark yellow. “Give you cat-eyes over your eyelids. To the audience, your eyes will always be open but sometimes _bigger_.”

“That sounds too cute.” Lambert protested.

“I’ll draw an inverted cross on your forehead.” Jaskier said.

“Deal.”

Jaskier handed him a bottle of spray-on sealant, and began on Geralt.

“I liked the look you had that first time I saw you guys, with the body paint.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m gonna try something different.”

“Hmm.”

“Blue.”

“Hmm?”

“Hold still.”

“Is that eyeliner?”

“Were those words?”

“Hmm.”

“Time for mascara.”

“What.”

“Mascara, Geralt. Blink your eyes.”

“Why.”

“Because it’s blue and it will make your eyes pop.”

Lambert was laughing into his fist. “You look like smurfs exploded just on a certain area of your face.”

Geralt’s forehead creased with worry. “Can I have an inverted cross as well?”

“No. But you’re in luck.” He pulled the stencil out of the bag. “I can put the band’s logo on your forehead. In glowing paint.”

“Awww, that’s cool.” Lambert said. “Why didn’t I get that?”

“Maybe next time, Lambsteak.”

Geralt took his turn with the spray-sealer. Eskel sat down. “Do you have enough time for me?”

“I will _always_ have enough time for you.” Jaskier said. “I’m going to do something different with you.”

“Is that why you made my paint darker?”

“Yes.” Jaskier pulled out something that looked like a square stamp. “Fuck Yen, she thinks I can’t do this.”

“You can.” Eskel whispered. “I’ll feel better on stage knowing you’ve done this for me.”

“I won’t have time to show you…”

“I trust you.”

“Ohh, Eskel, you are hyping me up and I don’t know if I can really deliver.”

“It’ll look better than the ones she’s done for me. Because you did it.”

“Eskel, stop, I’m trying to focus.”

“It tickles and I’m trying not to think about it.”

Jaskier laughed. “Oh, shit, sorry. I’m almost done.”

Lambert let out an impressive stream of expletives. “Is that a blacklight? Shiiiiiiiit!”

Jaskier, freshly done with Eskel’s face, grabbed something from the back of the chair he’d been sitting in and went up to Lambert. “Where’s the problem area.”

Lambert fidgeted. “Um. Th-the normal place.”

“So on your crotch.”

“Yes, Junebug.” Jaskier went to his knees and Lambert yelped and jumped backward. “Whoaa, what the fuck are you doing? You’re not gonna try to scrub it or nothing, right?”

“Lambert, get back here I have two minutes.”

“Hhhhh…”

Geralt grabbed Lambert and hauled him closer.

“Thank you, Geralt. Take his shirt off. Just in case.”

“Hold on a minute! What will my mic clip to?”

“A fucking mic stand.” Geralt growled. “Hold still.”

Jaskier grabbed the black half-kilt and threaded it through his belt loops, settling it over his crotch and around his hip, buckling it over the other hip. “There. Crisis averted. And if you get the urge to, you can play peekaboo with the fangirls.”

“Now my chest is naked.” Lambert bitched.

Eskel brought the paints. “Jaskier, rub him down with something dark.” Eskel was already rubbing glow paint all over his palms.

Jaskier grinned real big.

Lambert shrank away but Geralt cornered him. “D-do I have a say in this?”

“Just hold still, he’ll be gentle.” Geralt said.

Lambert whined. “That’s sort of the problem.”

Jaskier enjoyed rubbing the semi-glossy grey paint down the hard planes of Lambert’s stomach and chest. When he danced around to get to his shoulders and back, Eskel pressed sloppy, huge handprints onto his skin. It looked like neon warpaint.

“It’s time.” Geralt said.

“Does it look okay?” Lambert asked, eyes closed tightly.

Eskel sprayed him all over with the sealant. “We look perfect.”

Lambert smiled but sputtered when he got some of the sealant in his mouth. He caught a glimpse of Jaskier smiling at him. He hurried after Geralt and Eskel. “Let’s fuck it up, buttercup!”

Jaskier worried that it was too sloppy-- but honestly, metal bands usually were. They were more colorful than metal bands normally were, and that was a risk in the image. But honestly, with the blacklight playing off the streaky, mostly fingerpainted makeup, Jaskier felt that they looked energetic.

Eskel’s hands glowed, adding to his visibility when his hands began to blur. Lambert needn’t have worried about anyone seeing his crotch while he played; after all, the bass was covering, but the half-kilt would help his confidence.

Geralt seemed to play and scream harder than last time. This time, Jaskier wondered if it was because they all knew he was here to watch.

Jaskier went down to join Triss and Zoltan, who were drinking. Triss was bouncing around. Apparently, she was much more used to metal music than Jaskier had been. Pity, he’d been hoping to see her out of her element.

Between songs, Jaskier got a good look at Yennifer, who gave him a satisfied look. She nodded to him and left as quietly and quickly as she'd arrived.

As much as they didn't get along before, as much as he might have harbored bitterness toward her for a while, Jaskier kept in mind that she deserved thanks.

Triss tried to solicit piggyback rides from Jaskier so she could get closer to the stage. He refused on the grounds that he didn't want to wrinkle his new coat-- but when the heat required him to take it off, he had to come up with other excuses.

The next song was fun and Lambert and Geralt both worked together in it. A bitter and angry song, one that Jaskier wondered if part of it was taken straight from Vesemir on a drunk rant.

The strangest thing? He liked it.

Surprisingly, Geralt and Lambert switched instruments. Jaskier had never seen them do that. They started a song Geralt called "Let it Burn" with Lambert pulling off a fun little opening riff. The bar was over to the side, and Lambert was eyeing it hard. Jaskier considered getting him something to drink, but reconsidered when Lambert hopped down in the middle of the second verse, just to go get a shot or two. The fans were living for it, crowding around him as he ordered, and then, when his part came back, going straight into it while conversing casually with the bartender. He waited until he had a split second to grab the shots during the third verse, finessing those fuckers before launching into the little riff in the middle, turning around and leaning on the bar until the fans got the idea and moved back so he could make a beeline for the stage.

He stopped to take selfies a couple times, still fucking playing. When he got up on stage, he launched into his solo.

_**You feel a sudden pain, The night turns bright as day** _   
_**This shit is going straight Out of your mind** _   
_**You start to feel afraid, It is the price you pay** _   
_**To get the thrill You need to stay alive** _

_**Yeah! Let it burn! Let it burn!  
** _

_**Between the cuts and cries, You'll find a way to die** _   
_**Just take a sip And twist it like a knife** _   
_**A city full of sound, Too late to turn around** _   
_**You need to flee the light To save your life** _

_**You like when it hurts?** _

_**Let it burn! Let it burn!** _

_**You ain't sure what came first. Was it your flame or thirst?** _   
_**You need to please them both To put you out** _   
_**Another wasted youth, You thought you'd seen the truth** _   
_**We need to find a voice To help you shout** _

_**You like when it hurts!** _

_**Let it burn!** _

_**Burn!** _

_**Burn!** _   
_**Let it burn! Let it burn!** _   
_**Let it burn! Oh yeah!** _

_**Let it burn, yeah!** _   
_**Oh oh, let it burn!** _   
_**Oh oh, let it burn!** _

_**I like when it hurts!** _   
_**Let it burn!** _

When Lambert had said before he was just as good at guitar as Geralt, if not better, and the only reason he didn't do guitar was because he only had two hands and _someone_ had to play the bass, Jaskier hadn't entirely believed him. Geralt wasn't _horrible_ at bass, really. He was good! It was just that the only band that ever really made it off the lead singer being the bassist was KISS. Change Geralt's mind if you could.

There was a lull while Lambert downed an entire water bottle, Geralt cheers-ing with Eskel over their own. Then Lambert launched into another ditty. This one was punchy and catchy, and it didn't feel too serious either. Eskel looked like he was trying to murder something back there. When it ended abruptly, Jaskier wondered where the rest of it was. He also wondered if he'd have it stuck in his head forever.

_**GOTTA GO TO WORK, WORK, WORK, WORK GOTTA WORK** _   
_**GOTTA GO TO WORK, WORK, WORK, WORK GOTTA WORK** _   
_**GOTTA GO TO WORK, WORK, WORK, WORK GOTTA WORK** _   
_**Busy, busy, there's so much to do here** _   
_**GOTTA GO TO WORK, WORK, WORK, WORK GOTTA WORK** _   
_**GOTTA GO TO WORK, WORK, WORK, WORK GOTTA WORK** _   
_**GOTTA GO TO WORK, WORK, WORK, WORK GOTTA WORK** _   
_**I must fly!** _

_**So the day begins... All assigned a role...** _ _**For the greater good...** _  
_**A thousand eyes don't see themselves!** _

_**GOTTA GO TO WORK, WORK, WORK, WORK GOTTA WORK** _   
_**GOTTA GO TO WORK, WORK, WORK, WORK GOTTA WORK** _   
_**GOTTA GO TO WORK, WORK, WORK, WORK GOTTA WORK** _   
_**Busy, busy, there's so much to do here** _   
_**GOTTA GO TO WORK, WORK, WORK, WORK GOTTA WORK** _   
_**GOTTA GO TO WORK, WORK, WORK, WORK GOTTA WORK** _   
_**GOTTA GO TO WORK, WORK, WORK, WORK GOTTA WORK** _   
_**I must fly!** _

_**So the day begins... All assigned a role...** _   
_**For the greater good... For the sisterhood** _

_**So the day begins... All assigned a role...** _   
_**For the greater good... A thousand voices** _

_**For the swarm (for the swarm)** _   
_**For the swarm (for the swarm)** _   
_**For the swarm (for the swarm)** _   
_**For the swarm!** _

Surprisingly, they switched instruments again, Lambert sinking back with that bass and kissing the headstock as if to say "I'm back, baby, it's cool now."

Geralt cradled Silver for a second before wiping Lambert's hand grease off of it.

"How about a slow song?" He called out.

Jaskier thought he was joking. Yes, it was slower, but it was still really heavy. But then he recognized the song. It was an older one; one that Geralt would sing in.

Jaskier felt Triss eyeing him, so he focused on the havoc the bass, drums, and guitar played. A slight change in rhythm that made it irresistible for some strange reason.

Goddammit, metal was growing on him. It only took, what, a month and a half?

_**A growing sickness in the heart** _   
_**Defective, lack of control** _   
_**The cure is somewhere in the silence** _   
_**But I'm crushed by the noise inside** _

_**Don't lock the door on me** _   
_**You'd kill me, face down, dead** _   
_**Another part of me falls for you** _

_**Another day in the dark** _   
_**No, no** _   
_**Stranded in the night** _   
_**Stranded in the cold** _

_**Don't lock the door on me** _   
_**You'd kill me, face down, dead** _   
_**Another part of you gone to waste** _   
_**Please hear me out** _   
_**You kill me, face down, dead** _   
_**Another day in the dark** _

_**Don't lock the door on me** _   
_**You'd kill me, face down, dead** _   
_**Another part of you gone to waste** _   
_**Please hear me out** _   
_**You kill me, face down, dead** _   
_**Another day in the dark** _

_**Leave the moment alone** _   
_**Leave the moment alone** _   
_**Leave the moment alone** _   
_**Leave the moment alone** _

Geralt's voice wasn't clear. But it was heartfelt. Jaskier couldn't help but stare up at him when the last chorus and outro hit. He had chillbumps.

"YEAH MOTHERFUCKERS!!!!" Lambert crowed. "LET'S GET BIBLICAL IN THIS BITCH!"

Triss cast a look at Jaskier, who put his fist up and shouted. "YEAH! BIBLI-BITCH!"

Since they were close enough to the stage, Lambert seemed to hear him and had to swallow a snort.

Those handprints on him were really fun to look at. It emphasized how big Eskel's fucking hands were, yes, but also reminded Jaskier that he'd rubbed his hands _all over_ his chest to put the paint there. And with Eskel's hands still aglow with the paint, Jaskier was imagining similar handprints........ elsewhere... With a drink in his hand, half of it in his head, Jaskier was on a dangerous road to making fuck-me eyes at the entire band.

The song was one of their heavier ones from a couple albums back. It was full of bitterness and vitriol, but it was still enticing, if the crowd going apeshit was any indication.

After the song ended, Geralt expressed their need to go. Their set was long over, but the crowd was amazing. The uproar interrupted him. He looked at Lambert. Lambert pointed at Eskel, who stomped his double bass in a constant stream, twirling his sticks in answer.

"One more song?" Geralt asked the crowd.

"Do you expect them to say no, you daft cunt?" Zoltan laughed behind Jaskier.

Lambert yelled off mic. "YeeAAAAAAH ONE MORE SONG!" He pointed at Geralt. "You do the fun parts. Deal?"

"Deal."

Lambert started singing...

"Is that Call Me Maybe?" Jaskier asked. "Oh My God That's Call Me Maybe."

And then Geralt jumped in with the screaming and Jaskier let out a completely unexpected scream of his own.

Lambert bopping along while playing and singing the chorus-- only to start whipping that hair around when Geralt screamed the other half of the chorus.

This was too good.

And then when the breakdown later in the song took the fucking wind out of him. He looked behind him to see the crowd moving like a sea.

Once more, he wondered how it felt to be on the other side of the barricade, part of the mob mentality.

He would have to participate in these concerts more often.

* * *

"You impressed Yen." Geralt said, hanging back from the tour bus. Jaskier was trying and failing to walk a straight line, and Geralt was struggling with the desire to help him not fall down. "She said it was worth the trip."

Jaskier snorted and lost his balance. When Geralt caught his arm and helped him stay upright, Jaskier just laughed harder and leaned onto his arm. "Coming from Yennefer von Fingerbang, that's high praise."

It was like no time had passed. It was like the arguement, the years, had never touched them for just a second there. Geralt felt the warmth of Jaskier on his arm and his chest felt tight and his voice failed him.

"I'm sorry." Jaskier slurred. " _Vengerburg_." He sighed, and then when Eskel leaned out of the bus to look for them, Jaskier waved and shouted frantically to him. " _Eskel!_ Darling! I'm very drunk. I want chocolate milk."

Lambert grabbed Eskel's shoulder. "Don't fall for it. He's lactose intolerant."

Eskel looked at Geralt. "Is he?"

Geralt nodded. "There's no greater hell than Jaskier with an upset stomach and bad gas."

Eskel nodded, going to the fridge. Lambert watched him rummage around for something. "Shit. Lambert, you're more sober than usual, go buy one of those Yahoos."

"You mean Yoohoos?"

"Whatever the fuck it is that tastes like chocolate milk but _isn't_ chocolate milk." Eskel said, handing Lambert his wallet. "Get me a water or Gatorade. Geralt needs something too."

"What about me?" Lambert asked.

"Pretty sure you know how to pick something." Eskel said, shutting the nearly empty fridge. "Where's Vesemir?"

"He's asleep." Vesemir groaned from the bunk area. "He plans to stay that way for a few hours."

Geralt, hauling Jaskier onto the bus, remarked, "Well, at least everyone's on the same page."

Jaskier obviously wasn't on the same page. "You guys were _so_ great today! I had so much fun watching you! I'm gonna do it every time now!"

Lambert watched Jaskier be dumped into his bunk. "Might wanna sit on him, Geralt. Keep him from coming after me." He left the bus as Geralt seriously contemplated doing as suggested. Especially when Jaskier started trying to nudge Eskel's ass with his foot, babbling nonsense.

Triss got on the bus, still stone sober. "Wow, I can tell he hasn't been drinking lately. He's a lightweight again."

Eskel looked at her. "Wait. How much did he drink?"

"One cup. _One._ " She pointed in Eskel's face and then in Geralt's. "I'm trusting you guys not to use that against him. Keep him safe."

"From who?" Eskel laughed. "We would all sooner kill a man than let him come to harm."

Triss cocked an eyebrow. "All of you?"

Vesemir groaned again. "Can you have this talk _outside the bus_?"

Triss looked at Geralt, who, sitting on Jaskier to keep him immobile, had not spoken up. They seemed to hold a wordless conversation-- which, to Eskel's experience, was the only form of communication Geralt really seemed to excel at.

Triss and Eskel retreated from the bus, where Zoltan was double-checking that everything was put away properly in the storage trunk. He was ~~very covertly~~ eavesdropping. Well... it would have been less obvious if everyone else were a bit more drunk.

"How has he been. For real." Triss asked.

"He's been fine. All of us have."

"Lambert giving him shit?"

Eskel laughed. "Lambert was the first to warm up to him."

"You're kidding."

"Jaskier got under his skin the first day and pried it open. I haven't seen Lambert like this in years."

Triss grunted. "That's good, I guess. How's Geralt treating him?"

"Absently. He wants to join in, but he doesn't want to rush Jaskier into being around him."

Triss nodded, biting her lip. "But he still showed up on the stream."

"You knew he was there?"

She rolled her eyes. "I invited him years ago. He wanted to see if Jaskier was okay, I wanted them to talk and..." She sighed. "Instead, he just... pretended to be a stranger. I guess. So I had to keep the secret that he was there. He became a mod, helped keep people from being an asshole during his streams. Once he was on tour, he disappeared sometimes but he was present for about... crap, two-thirds?"

"I never noticed. He's on his phone a lot, but I had no idea he was..." He sighed. "Does this count as cyber-stalking?"

Triss shrugged. "I've asked myself that a lot."

Eskel bit his lip. "What happens when Jaskier finds out?"

Triss shrugged again. "I've asked myself that too. I'll be overseas, working with my new friends. Might steal Zoltan from you guys."

Zoltan tried to look busy so it was less obvious he was listening.

Eskel leaned his head back, letting it bump against the bus. "This is going to be a mess."

Triss nodded. "I've tried everything to get them to just talk to each other. I love both of them, but it's time for me to do me. It's in Geralt's court now. He's got good intentions, I'm sure, but he needs to psyche up and face his mistakes before he loses this chance." She leaned back onto the bus as well. "Jas is happy now. I don't want that to change. I don't want to hear that he had to go back home because he got hurt again."

Eskel sighed. "I'll try to make sure that doesn't happen."

"It shouldn't be on you. It shouldn't be on me. Make Geralt understand his silence is only going to backfire."

Lambert was coming back, arms full of drinks. Triss sighed and pushed away from the bus. "I'm gonna hole up in a hotel. If you guys are still in town in the afternoon, have Jas call me. We'll do lunch before I leave."

Lambert watched Triss walk past him before going to stand next to Eskel. "Everything okay?"

Eskel took his gatorade. "Hope so. Guess we'll see."

Lambert watched Eskel crack open the gatorade, try to drink it, and spill it a bit on his shirt. Eskel cursed.

"What's wrong." Lambert asked.

Eskel sighed and tried again to drink, more careful this time. Finally he put the cap back on it and pushed away from the bus. "Guess we'll see."

Jaskier enjoyed his "chocolate milk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I addressed the elephant in the room. Originally this chapter was going to be shorter and just focus on Triss, Zoltan, and Jaskier catching up. But instead of writing it in my document, I wrote it in AO3 and for some reason I just...? went off the record I guess?
> 
> Oh well. 
> 
> Things that I don't know anything about: Makeup application, where Yen came from, where did she go, where did she come from cotton eye joe, why everyone is getting so serious now... other things, too, but i'mma stop there. Feel free to roast me in the comments im tired lmao.
> 
> Rest assured, to anyone who is concerned about plot, I promise the slow burn romance is a higher priority and the plot is half comedy and half fluff with a slight twist that totally doesnt feel like a slap in the face.
> 
> And there's a guaranteed kiss in the next chapter. Guaranteed. Just be careful what you wish for.


	10. Kiss And Tell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier and Geralt have a talk.
> 
> Jaskier and Lambert chill, as always.
> 
> Jaskier and Eskel get a bit closer.
> 
> And a livestream, to wrap it all up!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I said I would not include any original music in this? I lied.  
> I'll provide the vocal track in a future chapter, i just can't record it right now. Hopefully I will be able to soon. It's called Vitriol, and it's my favorite song I've ever done. I'll add the track asap.
> 
> I will also be adding in vocal covers of three songs in this chapter, once I have some goddamn quiet time in my own fucking house to where I can sing comfortably. wonder what quiet is, really. haven't heard it in fucking months. In the meantime, I have other videos there as proxies: they're still good, so please enjoy. (I linked the cover of Mind Brand with the english translation in it-- but later in the chapter, another version of it is linked- this is the instrumental I'll be working with when I make my cover. It's a placeholder until i get it recorded...)
> 
> I've had three panic attacks this past week. I'm not sure why/what has happened, but I think part of it is the content in the chapter that has to do with trans!Jaskier having trans issues. They're based on my own feelings, I can't go into it any further than that, there are people I can't block from reading these notes who might read them.
> 
> also, this chapter is long. Pace yourself. Call it a bonus for sticking with it for 10 chapters!
> 
> ALSO ALSO IMPORTANT: we're gonna address Eskel's scars in this chapter! Um. It's a bit out of left field and thus there are some. Descriptions of violence and character death. If you need that warning, there it is. I had no intention of being this abrupt with it, but I've been writing this chapter for a long time and ive been in a daze for most of it (which is why the songs aren't in it yet, inability to record notwithstanding.)
> 
> Sorry my notes are all over the place. I'm doing my best.
> 
> 7/29/20 EDIT NOTES: Continuity issues; story has changed throughout writing from how originally imagined. This is a good thing. Will add in extra tidbits for anyone chancing a reread. Enjoy!  
> Upon editing this chapter, I discovered the video with the metal backing track for Mind Brand got taken down or privated, so I had to remove it. When I make my cover, i'll just insert it there via soundcloud or something. Sorry for the inconvenience!

Jaskier always had weird dreams when he was drunk. He dreamt he was playing monopoly with all the boys and the pieces were made of candy so he was eating them and Lambert was trying to grab some too. Jaskier started choking, and they all started fighting over who would give him mouth-to-mouth.

Jaskier, who realized he could still breathe, though he was choking, couldn't help them decide because suddenly he was Very interested in all their mouths.

Then the dream changed and he was naked and cold and back at high school. It was the middle of class and nobody had noticed he was naked. He was terrified to move because if he did, everyone would suddenly notice. It should be emphasized: He was stark fucking nude.

Where were his FUCKING PANTS?

Valdo, in the seat next to him, handed him a poncho.

Triss, on his other side, handed him a scarf.

**He woke up in a cold sweat.**

* * *

"Can we talk?"

Jaskier looked at Geralt like he'd grown an extra head. "As in _both_ of us speaking, holding a conversation?"

"Yes." Geralt said.

Jaskier put his hand on Geralt's forehead. He made an effort not to react. "Well, you don't _feel_ feverish."

"I want to write a song with you." He said bluntly.

"Oh. That makes more sense." Jaskier laughed. "Sounds fun, should I go get the others?"

"I thought we could use the time to talk. If that's okay."

Jaskier looked worried. "Is, uh… something wrong?"

Geralt seemed to think about it before he finally shook his head. "Just… wanted to clear the air."

Now Jaskier just looked hesitant. "Look, Geralt, I know last time I didn't cut you a break, but…"

"I know." Geralt sighed, getting out his notebook as he sank into his bunk. "You have to be around me for your job. I can make it easier for you by addressing it. I should have, a long time ago."

Jaskier hesitantly sat down across from him. "Are you okay?"

His face was a rock. "I'm fine."

Geralt made no move to continue, but Jaskier figured it was just him thinking it through clearly. That much hadn't changed.

"So, about that song?"

Geralt sighed again, this time in relief. "I was thinking about something that mixes styles. I'll do rough vocals, you do cleans, and we'll come for harmony sometimes."

"That's… a concept, yeah." Jaskier said. It was bare bones, that's what it _really_ was. But the idea of singing with Geralt felt a bit intimate. He wasn't sure how to handle that. "Any… any more information, there?"

He grunted. "Maybe a new rendition of one of your old songs."

Jaskier huffed. "Now I know you're just fucking with me. Which one?"

Geralt didn't look up. " **Vitriol**."

Jaskier's brow creased in thought. "Oh. Wow. That _is_ old." He squinted at Geralt. "Can't remember doing an official recording."

Smoothly, Geralt lied, "Someone sent me a clip of a stream, years ago."

Jaskier turned that over in his head, who would do that, and why. And he started laughing. "It's not even about you."

Geralt did look up, now. "It isn't?"

"Why? Did you want it to be?" Jaskier continued to laugh.

Geralt felt his face burn and looked away again. "I… I'm glad."

Jaskier let his laugh die off. "Has it been bothering you for long?"

He nodded.

"That's why you've been so nervous?"

Again, he nodded.

Jaskier moved to sit next to Geralt. The look he got was priceless. "Let's break it down, for reference, then. Just to make sure you believe me."

**_Your pretty words were pretty lies_ **   
**_You fooled me with a dumb disguise_ **   
**_And I fell for you._ **   
**_You trapped me in those deep, dull eyes_ **   
**_I let you kill what made me mine._ **   
**_But I fought for you._ **

Jaskier stopped singing and quirked an eyebrow at Geralt. "Care to tell me what in that even _vaguely_ resembles you?"

Geralt was quiet for a long time. "You always fought for me."

"I fight for everyone I love, Geralt." Jaskier said, rewarded with secondhand whiplash as Geralt's head turned so fast and suddenly that he pulled something in his neck.

"No, it wasn't about you. I don't think you've ever lied to me, you never pretended to be something you weren't… and your eyes could never be described as dull. Deep, perhaps. Never dull."

Jaskier hesitated before continuing. "And you never made me feel like less of a man. Even back then, before top surgery. You and Yen were my biggest supporters."

Geralt looked offended that Jaskier had even had to make that distinction… but the implication…. Whoever the song was really about. They made him feel that way. He grit his teeth.

**_Your love is vitriolic, so acidic._ **   
**_Package me up, send me in the box you made._ **   
**_Your claims of being empathetic are pathetic._ **   
**_Lie and say you know me for who I really am._ **

Jaskier smiled. “You never did any of that. And for all you pretend to be a statue, I know your tells. You’re secretly like one of those big dogs. The ones that go **boof**. You’re scary until someone gives you peanut butter or ham.”

Geralt felt his mouth curve against his will. “I _do_ love ham.”

Jaskier snorted. Geralt’s smile grew. “Shall I go on?”

He nodded, eyes shining. For all the song used to be his favorite way to hurt himself, now he felt light with relief. Hearing Jaskier sing it to him was also nice. He’d always loved the way his lilting voice would light on the notes.

_**Now I can’t see the lies through the truth.** _   
_**I let you make me into your fool.** _   
_**And I wasted so much time on you** _   
_**When I had better things I could do.** _

_**Now I can’t see the lies through the truth.** _   
_**I never wanted to resent you,** _   
_**But I wasted too much time on you** _   
_**So now there’s nothing left I can do.** _

_**A pretty face is all I was** _   
_**Rose-colored glasses, drowned in love** _   
_**There was no truth.** _   
_**Clip what wouldn't fit in your box** _   
_**Reward me when I wouldn't test your lock** _   
_**Part of me died for you.** _

_**Your love is so vitriolic, so acidic.** _   
_**I was just another product for you to sell** _   
_**Your claims of being empathetic are pathetic.** _   
_**Baby, tell me who I am.** _

_**Now I can’t see the lies through the truth.** _   
_**I let you make me into your fool.** _   
_**And I wasted so much time on you** _   
_**When I had better things I could do.** _

_**Now I can’t see the lies through the truth.** _   
_**I never wanted to resent you.** _   
_**But I wasted too much time on you** _   
_**So now there’s nothing left I can do.** _

_**Won't you say it now, say it now, say it now.** _   
_**You're sorry now, sorry now, sorry now.** _   
_**I'll say it now, say it now, say it now.** _   
_**I'm not sorry now, I'm sorry now, sorry now.** _

_**I can’t see the lies through the truth.** _   
_**I let you make me into your fool.** _   
_**And I wasted so much time on you** _   
_**When I had better things I could do.** _

_**I can’t see the lies through the truth.** _   
_**I never wanted to resent you.** _   
_**But I wasted too much time on you** _   
_**So now there’s nothing left I can do.** _

_**Now I can see the lies in our truth.** _   
_**Yeah, I lied, you know you lied too.** _   
_**Just let it die, let us just be through.** _   
_**We both have better shit we could do.** _

_**Now we cannot hide the lies with the truth.** _   
_**You feel nothing, and I feel it too.** _   
_**I wish you the best, baby, that's the truth.** _   
_**'Cause now there's nothing left I can do.** _

Beautiful as always, it gave him chills. Geralt let out a sigh. It was time to talk. It was overdue. “Jaskier…”

“I never saw it as a waste.” He whispered. "Even when I couldn't breathe through all the tears… I never once thought of my time with you as a waste."

Geralt looked at him. Those blue eyes, usually so frigid and closed off, were so much more familiar. The frost he felt from them wasn’t from anger or resentment, it was a distant memory to numb fingers and whisps of winter breath. Of whispered names in a room lit only by the full moon’s light through the window.

He couldn’t breathe. Jaskier was close.

_Was this forgiveness?_

He could feel Jaskier’s breath, smell his cologne.

_He hadn’t asked for forgiveness yet._

Jaskier’s eyes closed, Geralt’s pulse stuttered.

_He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this out of order. Jaskier deserved better._

“Jaskier.”

He opened his eyes. Maybe even looked a little guilty, as if he knew the hell he was putting Geralt through. “Geralt.”

“Don’t let us go back to the way we were. I don’t deserve that yet.”

Jaskier looked at him like he was stupid. “You couldn’t say that five minutes from now… or five minutes ago, even?”

Geralt sighed. “Don’t let me get away with this. Make me apologize.”

He cocked an eyebrow, barked an incredulous laugh. “Geralt, I can’t _make_ you do anything.” He sighed and got up. “But, hey, if you need even more time, that’s cool. Not like you’ve had six years to think about it.”

“Jas, no… I…”

“I’m going to go get a drink. I’ll be back later.”

Later was a long time. Jaskier didn’t come back alone. And he didn’t approach Geralt to talk about what happened.

Somehow, with the best intentions, Geralt had fucked up once again. He almost envied Yennefer’s ability to just disappear whenever she didn’t want to face anyone anymore.

It repeated in his mind, though: _I never saw it as a waste._

_I don’t think you ever lied to me._

* * *

"You're shitting me." Lambert laughed. "Why the fuck would that bitch call you?"

Jaskier had just got off the phone with Fringilla. Considering they never really saw eye to eye before, this was special.

“I… uh.” Jaskier looked down. “Remember about a week ago, when I asked to borrow your computer sometimes?” He waited for Lambert to nod. “I did a livestream where I performed on Twitch.”

Lambert was quite possibly one of the worst liars. “Is that so?”

Luckily for him, Jaskier was thinking too hard to notice the cold sweat Lambert had just broken into. “Triss asked me to ruin one of her friend’s, Keira’s, favorite songs. I gladly accepted. Fringilla just asked me to do another one. Maybe two, if I’m up for it.” Jaskier put his head in his hands. “I never thought Fringilla would turn on Keira, but I don’t know why I’m surprised.”

“Yeah, she’s about as loyal as she is open-minded.” Lambert grunted. “Both of them.”

Jaskier looked at him. “You know them?”

“I dated Keira for three years. When she insulted Coen’s girlfriend, I dropped her.” He paused. “Well, the verbal abuse and overall bad fit were factors, but that really just sealed the deal. Then I brought up to Geralt we should do a Pride tour just to piss her off and he jumped on that shit _so hard_.”

“I missed something here. Back up a bit.”

Lambert looked at Jaskier before he remembered Jaskier hadn’t _known_ Coen. “Oh, yeah. So. Coen had a trans girlfriend. We all accepted her, even invited her down one year for winter. They were real cute together, she didn't hate me, either. So I brought the two of them on a double date with me and Keira-- and she showed her entire fucking ass.”

Jaskier nodded. “I always got that vibe from her. Pretty sure the only reason she let me in her house was because she didn’t consider me a real man. She never said it out loud, but…”

Now Lambert looked confused. “What do you mean, she didn’t consider you a real man.”

Jaskier just blinked at him. “Um. Well. I’m trans man.”

Lambert cocked his head before shrugging. “Shit, I never knew. Not that it was my business.” He paused. “I just figured you were a huge fan of Rush or Coheed or something.”

Jaskier’s eyebrows shot up. “What, because my voice is a bit higher than yours?”

Lambert looked down. “Was that rude to say?”

“No, I’m not upset or anything.” He laughed and nudged Lambert’s hand on the table. “Contrary to what Geralt might have thought, I’m not insecure about my identity.”

“Good. You shouldn’t be.” Lambert said.

“There’s no reason to treat me any differently than how you always have.” Jaskier said. “I’m still the same person.”

“I know. I know. It just makes sense why Geralt threatened to beat the shit out of me over Barbie Girl now.”

Jaskier laughed. “I thought it was fucking hilarious, the idea of someone trying to fuck to that. I didn’t think you were trying to be an asshole. Well… not in that way.”

Lambert covered his face. His hand cautiously nudged Jaskier’s in return. Jaskier linked a finger with one of his in silent answer.

“I used to be upset about my voice. Thought about taking T, but I kind of feel like I worked too hard on my voice just to learn how to use it all over again. I want to but at the same time, I don’t? I might change my mind but…” He shrugged.

“You’re still you, either way.” Lambert said. “Valid.”

Jaskier smiled. “Yeah… I was mostly worried that my fans would be upset that I’d sound different.”

Lambert nodded. “That makes sense. But if you wanna try, they’ll get used to it. Don’t let that dictate what you do with your body.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t.” He sighed. “I was worried about the metal scene though.”

Lambert laughed. “Why? Rock and metal have so many amazing vocalists who don’t fit the norm. It’s great.”

“I… guess I just never hear about them.”

Lambert pulled his laptop over and started typing. “Let’s look at some, then. There’s Rush, which I already mentioned. _Everyone_ knows Rush. Coheed & Cambria, Kill Hannah, Silversun Pickups. They were all inspired by them, obviously. If you want something more metal adjacent, how about Pierce The Veil, or Sleeping With Sirens? Both the frontmen have high voices and are seen almost as _sex symbols_. There are others.”

Jaskier came around to Lambert’s side of the booth to look at the screen. “Should I try to cover some of these?”

“Shit, if you did, I might die.” Lambert laughed. “I’ll make you a mix on my computer of good songs to do.” He sat there for a minute. “What were we talking about before?”

“Pride Tour?” Jaskier asked.

“Oh! Yeah. Well. I wanted to rub in Keira’s face that she’s a bitch. So I told Geralt we were doing a Pride tour, where we’d wear pride flag colors at every show. I had an entire wardrobe of trans pride gear. We all did. Yen helped us commission it.”

“Wow.” Jaskier smiled.

“I miss all of it; we lost it in the bus fire. But I still have a collection of pride flag gradient tongue rings.” Lambert said. “I usually just stick with the bisexual one. I like the colors better than pansexual.” Just to punctuate, he wagged his tongue ring at Jaskier, showing it off.

Jaskier nodded. “That is so fucking valid.”

“You like pan better, don’t you.”

“I’m a pansexual pirate, after all kinds of booty.”

Lambert snorted. “God, now I want to see Yen put you in a pirate getup.”

“I could do it myself.” Jaskier said.

Lambert bit back a groan. “Don’t tease me.”

It occurred to Jaskier that the flirting had been pretty intense for a while. He couldn’t tell if Lambert was joking anymore.

They were also, he realized, holding hands in earnest now.

So it was absolutely just to tease Lambert when he replied in an almost sultry way, “I would _never_.”

Jaskier watched Lambert’s eyes study his face. His tongue darted out to lick dry lips.

He smiled, leaning back in the booth. “So are none of us straight?”

Lambert jolted as if he’d just been woken up. “Uh. I don’t know about Vesemir, but no. Eskel’s demi, Geralt’s bi as well. Coen was the only one I knew for a fact was straight.”

There was a pause. “So what did Fringilla want? You said she was turning on Keira.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes and sighed. “Apparently Fringilla wants to make Keira move out so she doesn’t have to break the lease to leave herself.”

“As cold as ever. What happened?”

“Keira being Keira.” Jaskier said. “Even Fringilla got tired of her shit. It’s crazy. She also said she enjoyed my cover of Masked Bitch--hearing her say that was an out of body experience--so she wanted to hear me ‘ruin’ some more of Keira’s most overplayed favorites. One of them’s in English and is straight up about wanting to have sex. The other one, she’s providing a popular singable English translation for, and it sounds like it’s about revenge after a bad relationship. I… I’m not sure what exactly it entails.”

“Sounds great. By the way, I’m in for this one.”

“What?”

“If you’re doing this, I want to be in on it. Pissing off Keira _and_ working with you? Hell yes, any fucking day.”

Jaskier felt his face heat. “Let’s listen to the originals, then, and we’ll come up with a game plan.”

This was a mistake. The first song, the sexy one, was exactly as advertised. Lambert, listening to it, was suddenly very uncomfortable in these tight sweatpants. It wasn’t the song, exactly. It was the idea of Jaskier singing it.

He wanted to hear him sing it. So fucking badly.

Jaskier paused the video. “In our version, could you do some rough vocals here?”

Lambert nodded dumbly.

“I kinda dig this song. I listened to it earlier, when she emailed me them yesterday.”

“So you read the email, didn’t respond, and she called you?”

“She doesn’t take no for an answer. If I’m not careful, she’ll find us and burn the bus down with us in it.”

Lambert nodded. “I can see it. Let’s not piss her off then. Better do the song.”

Jaskier nodded back. “She already sent me money. She said she’ll send more after the stream. She _really_ wants to not break the lease.”

“Is this really all it will take to make her leave?” Lambert asked. “Two songs?”

Jaskier looked thoughtful, chewing his lip. Lambert realized he was staring at Jaskier’s lips.

_Oh, no. Time for panic._

“I think you’re right. I mean, she might clip it and play it on repeat… but…” Jaskier gave Lambert a horribly deviant look. “Maybe we can make it worse.”

 _Oh, **no**. Time for **mega gay panic**_.

Lambert didn’t respond for a long time. “How. Uhm. How would you suggest we do that?”

Jaskier pulled up a new tab and looked up the second song. “Well, you know Keira. Once something has been hers, it’s always hers. I’m sure that extends to you too.”

He groaned. “You have _no_ idea.”

“Well. She hates me. With a fiery passion.” Jaskier looked away. “Something could be done that shows her just how little control she has over _both_ of us.”

Lambert was staring at Jaskier, unable to breathe. Surely, he wasn’t suggesting--

“But we can come back to that later.” Jaskier said. “Let’s look at the other one. She said this one has the translation that everyone seems to agree on.”

Lambert liked the beginning, when it said “welcome to the mind fuck.”

“You’ll let me scream that, right?”

“Oh, fuck yeah.” Jaskier said. “What order should we do these in, I wonder…”

Then the singing started, and Lambert made a noise of protest. “She sounds like a goddamn Disney princess. That’s… ugh.”

Then she sang the line “kick the dick from out your mouth” and Lambert’s jaw dropped.

“Oh, wow. In that sugarcube voice, that… that might have been sexy.”

Jaskier snorted. “I’m not big on the song, really. But it might be fun.”

Lambert looked at Jaskier and then back to the song playing from his laptop. “Oh, my god, with her Disney-ass voice I can’t fucking imagine how you’re going to sound.”

Jaskier played through the chorus once or twice, and then paused it, singing it.

The high note sounded better when Jaskier belted it. Lambert resorted to looking up at the ceiling to the bus and willing his semi not to show itself.

Jaskier, pleased that he could do it well enough, resumed the song. Right before the final chorus, Jaskier paused it. “That bridge, there. We should do that in rough vocals. Have a breakdown there.”

Lambert nodded, still looking up.

When the song presented a higher high note at the end, Lambert was worried. “Can you hit that one comfortably?”

Jaskier sighed. “Probably not… But. I could scream it, possibly.”

_Stop it, you’re making it so much harder-- I MEAN DIFFICULT!_

“Lambert? What’s up? You look constipated.”

“Fuck off, I’m just. Gonna go get a drink.” Lambert went to get up, but Jaskier was still holding his hand, and didn’t let go and he didn’t _actually want to go_.

He looked at Jaskier, who looked a bit off.

_Is it just teasing? What is this, anymore?_

Lambert had had quick fucks before. He’d thought he and Keira were close at one time, and he’d had a couple other relationships where he’d felt he knew what desire was… But holy fuck, this was different. Lambert had never even _kissed_ Jaskier, and yet felt he knew him more intimately than anyone else had in a long time-- maybe ever.

He did not want to lose that. But where was the line? It kept shifting. If it shifted any further, they were bound to start groping each other and saying "no homo," or recite filthy song lyrics at each other to try and make the other blush.

Part of Lambert wanted that too.

"Lambert, did you hear me?"

 _Fuck_. "No."

Jaskier huffed a laugh. Relief. Apparently, Lambert had spaced out at the worst moment. "I said you need to tell me if I ever go too far."

He laughed now. "You could never go too far."

Jaskier hitched a brow. "You sure?" He shifted closer, facing more toward Lambert, his free hand dangerously close to landing on his knee. "You seem nervous."

If Lambert wasn't so good at schooling himself into a raging prick, he would have honked like a goddamn Canadian goose. He managed to not break his voice and leveled Jaskier with his best sexy-asshole smolder. "Try me."

Jaskier's fingers tickled at Lambert's knee, and watched as his eyes narrowed to pinpricks, an undignified noise left him-- more undignified than usual-- and a look of horror took his face.

"Oh my god. You are ticklish."

Lambert looked absolutely miserable, and legitimately tried to get up now. "If you start this, I'm going to finish it."

"I'm not ticklish, but I'd love to see you try." Jaskier was still gripping his hand.

Lambert shot to his feet, dragging Jaskier's stubborn ass with him. "I swear to fuck, I will throw you on my bed and _make_ you ticklish."

It was that fierce look on Lambert's face that got Jaskier. They were both laughing, red-faced, and Jaskier was half-sitting on the table, still holding his hand. Lambert was standing right in front of him. If he got any closer, he'd be between Jaskier's legs. The way Jaskier looked up at him through his eyelashes…

It registered a bit late what he'd said to put that look on Jaskier's face though. _I will throw you on my bed… and make you ticklish…_

"Lambert. Quit blushing. You'll run out of blood for the rest of your body."

Lambert laughed and pushed away. "Fuck _off_ , Junebug."

Lambert didn't know how he was going to stop himself short of _anything_ , if Jaskier was going to make that face. One thing was for sure: that mouth certainly summoned demons. Lambert was just unsure how to contain them.

* * *

Lambert was hard at work on the backing tracks for the covers. He was also working on some other fun things. Surprises for Jaskier.

But since he was busy, and Jaskier was still avoiding Geralt whenever he could, Eskel found himself in the possession of a very anxious Jaskier.

Jaskier felt like he was going crazy. Readmitting his feelings for Geralt felt like a slap in the face, and in his fixation on that, Lambert's adorable bashfulness completely blindsided him.

He felt like Eskel was the only one who could calm him down.

"Lambert, Coen, and I wrote a song as teenagers. Wanna hear it?" Eskel asked, picking at the guitar. "You have to listen to it all the way through to get it, though. Please be patient for the ending."

"Go for it." Jaskier grinned, watching Eskel glow a bit. He'd been getting more and more confident singing for Jaskier. It made Jaskier happy to know he was comfortable with him.

It was rather immediate, the revelation the song was meant to be amusing… but then when Eskel hit the chorus, Jaskier's mouth fell open in shock. As the song went on, he felt his cheeks heat. _Oh, my god. Wow. No._

**_Well I see you on the couch and your curves are looking so good_ **   
**_And if I plan this out right I know you’ll do the things that you should_ **   
**_So I slide on over and put my hand on your neck_ **   
**_You start to wake up so I say what the heck_ **   
**_I guess you’re in the mood for a good fingerbangin’ tonight_ **

**_I’m gonna fingerbang you baby_ **   
**_Fingerbang you all night long_ **   
**_I’m gonna fingerbang you baby_ **   
**_Till I get you to sing me a song_ **   
**_I pull-off here then I hammer right there_ **   
**_Look at that G string sliding everywhere_ **   
**_I’m gonna fingerbang you baby up till the break of dawn_ **

**_Now I got you on my knee and things are going alright_ **   
**_I don’t want you to fret cause I can keep this tempo all night_ **   
**_But then I throw a little change in my fingerstyle_ **   
**_I bend it just a bit cause it makes me smile_ **   
**_Then I’m back to fingerbangin just like you knew that I would_ **

**_I’m gonna fingerbang you baby_ **   
**_Fingerbang you all night long_ **   
**_I’m gonna fingerbang you baby_ **   
**_Till I get you to sing me a song_ **   
**_I pull-off here then I hammer right there_ **   
**_Look at that G string sliding everywhere_ **   
**_I’m gonna fingerbang you baby up till the break of dawn_ **

**_I hate to say it baby but my fingers are starting to hurt_ **   
**_So settle on down and I’ll clean you up with this shirt_ **   
**_If you have friends no matter who they are_ **   
**_Tell them about my pretty guitar_ **   
**_And how I fingerbanged that thing all night long for you_ **

At the end, when Eskel's glittering eyes smiled at the reveal of the hidden joke, Jaskier felt his face seize. "Ohmygod." He managed to breathe. "No!" With a huge smile, reveling in the warmth of Eskel's growing grin.

Jaskier leaned back, kicking his legs and howling as Eskel repeated the chorus once more, softly, working his neck and waggling his eyebrows.

"Oh, fuck. You would be the best comedian ever, Eskel."

He shrugged, becoming shy as he just stared down at poor Steel.

"You'll have to join me sometime on my streams and play your joke songs."

Eskel seemed to become even more bashful.

The silence stretched. When Eskel spoke, his voice was soft. A low rumble of distant thunder. "Don't I look scary, though? If I did comedy, they'd be too focused on my face." He wasn't bashful, Jaskier noticed. He was downcast.

"Eskel, darling, no."

"Every comedian with something obvious going on, that's usually the focus of their jokes. I… I don't think I can write material over my face being fucked up."

"It's not fucked up, Eskel." Jaskier said. "I think you're gorgeous."

"I was stabbed in the face with a screwdriver seven times. Broke six teeth. I didn't fight back because I didn't want to hurt her; she'd been hurt enough. She was sick, and she died resisting arrest." The words spilled out of Eskel's mouth, leaving silence in their wake.

Jaskier didn't know how to respond.

Eskel looked up at Jaskier. "She was my goddaughter. Her name was Deidre Evangelina Louise Cooper. I called her Eva…" His voice stuttered on the name.

Jaskier came closer, taking the guitar away and going to his knees in front of Eskel, searching his eyes, refusing to let him turn away.

It made sense, in a way. Eskel was the gentlest of the boys, perhaps even the sweetest. He didn't have to build up a cold exterior; other people's perception of him provided one easily.

The metal scene was forgiving. The makeup, the idea of scars as an aesthetic. Eskel-- all three of them, really-- fit in in a way they couldn't anywhere else. In a genre populated by all manner of societal rejects, three injured souls could find acceptance.

Jaskier held Eskel's hands, maintained that eye contact and breathed deeply until Eskel took the hint and breathed in the same rhythm. Calmly. In, and out. He squeezed Eskel's hands three times, a signal Geralt had taught him years and years ago.

Eskel screwed his eyes shut, a tear slipping from one. He squeezed back. One, two, three.

**Here. We. Are.**

It was a mantra that Geralt had confided in Jaskier ages ago. A reminder in pain that the past didn't have to dictate the present. A reminder that, in sharing it, it was an offering to weather the misery together. Never alone.

Any way you sliced the words, they meant something different. We are here. Here, we exist. Here, we are stronger together. And in the absence of those three words, none of it would matter anymore, and even that could be a comfort on some bad days. A time when there is finally quiet within, a time when Here We Are becomes Here, We _Were_.

Jaskier didn't have to say anything. He was there. And when Eskel looked into those teary blue eyes, he felt something. He couldn’t put into words just what. The leaden feeling in his chest just felt _different_ now. A bearable kind of different.

Eskel breathed out slowly, some of his tension leaving him. "Awful lot you're shouldering for us." He whispered, and his palm dwarfed Jaskier's cheek. "You're taking care of yourself, too, aren't you?"

Jaskier's heart almost shattered. His hand closed over Eskel's. "It's not a burden to be shouldered." Jaskier whispered back. "It's something to learn, a facet of you I understand now. Good and bad, it's all important to me. _This_ isn't a job to me, Eskel. I care about you."

Eskel's face softened more. "Then I'll make sure you're taken care of, too." He said. "Anything. Anywhere. Anytime."

The silence stretched on, each focusing on the other’s breaths-- and perhaps drifting infinitesimally closer, and Vesemir called to Jaskier. Startled into clarity, Jaskier realized he was once again on the precipice of kissing someone and almost tore his hair out.

Eskel looked a bit crestfallen that they'd been interrupted, but he masked it well. "You go on, I'll work on some lyrics while you're gone."

Jaskier nodded and went to talk to his horribly _convenient_ boss.

"Jaskier, do you have any idea why pictures of you are trending in our tour tags?"

"Oh. Um. Oops?"

"Oops as in… You can't do it anymore?"

"I mean, I _can_ , I just--"

"You absolutely _should_." Vesemir scrolled on his outdated, cracked iPhone. "Look at these comments! You left an impression. At this rate, you'll be a full member of the band in a year."

Jaskier suddenly realized he _could_ be. "Oh. Wow. I…"

"I never imagined just how well you'd fit in with it all." Vesemir went on. "Or how well you'd contain most of their bullshit. Lambert’s only replaced Geralt's incense with weed _once_ this month, and that's all he's done!"

"Well…" Jaskier laughed. "He _did_ also lie and say there was a skunk under the bus, to make an excuse for the smell."

"Considering he's usually doing much worse and costing me money bailing him out of it, that much I can handle." Vesemir reminded him. "But now, you aren't just a figure behind the curtain. You're involved now. The fans don't even know _who_ you are. They don't know you've been working on tracks with them."

"Should we be worried about that?"

"They're eating it up. If I play this right, I can hint at it with some cryptic posts. Make it a puzzle. Something. Gives me something to work on while the boys are on stage." Vesemir was scrolling through the posts. "Congrats, boy. You're an anonymous celebrity. I dare say, you're probably being retroactively added into fanfics as we speak."

"Oh wow." Jaskier stared at Vesemir. " _Why_ do you know about fanfiction?"

"When you manage a band of strapping young men, there are lots of messages with links that appear in your direct messages. They ask for approval of 'headcanons' and ask who 'pitches' and other things I don't want to think about. I never respond. And I learned very… _very_ quickly not to read the linked documents."

Jaskier stared at Vesemir.

Vesemir stared back. "Being an old man with little knowledge of the internet has led to horrible things, and I'm glad I learn quickly. _You'll want to retire too, when you see the shit I've seen_."

* * *

"So, we're gonna do it?" Lambert asked for the third time.

"Only if you really wanna." Jaskier repeated.

"But… do you want to?" Lambert asked.

"This is _your_ revenge more than mine." Jaskier said. "I promise, whichever way you choose to go with this, duet or solo, I will be fine."

Lambert fiddled with his headphone cord. "Can I take my shirt off for the stream? Kinda hot in here."

Jaskier nodded. "Fanservice for chat. I wish I had shoulders like that; I'd take mine off too."

"Do it." Lambert grinned. "Why not."

Jaskier considered it. Finally, he shook his head. "They’ve never seen me without a shirt. It would feel weird for me. You being shirtless is honestly on brand. Plus, even if I did take it off, they wouldn’t even notice. They'll be too busy staring at that… Jesus, fuck." Jaskier trailed off, suddenly remembering the body painting, the handprints. "Um. _Abs_."

"Jesus fuck'um abs. Sounds like a good song title."

Jaskier blushed and looked away. "We're live in one minute. Get the tracks ready."

Lambert smirked. "I was _born_ ready. Songs on hotbar."

"Okay, okay, okay… go."

Just prior to the show, they'd both posted the link on their Twitter feeds, promising a face reveal to the mysterious carnival barker from the last show.

So, naturally, as soon as it went live, the chat almost immediately filled up with Bewitchery fans, drowning out Jaskier's own.

Lambert spoke up. "What's up, dudes, I'm helping... _Dandelion_ out with this stream, wanted to make it something special." He snorted. “Okay, if Imma call you a flower name, I’ll stick with Buttercup. Because I like it more.”

Quite a few chat messages demanded to know where the others were. Jaskier determinedly kept his expression neutral. Lambert kept cool. "This is Buttercup’s show, I'm just along for the ride." He grinned. "Might see any of us on here, from now on. We all live in the same bus."

Jaskier chose to ignore his frantic chat. This was getting overwhelming, fast. "So, for those of you who are new, on these streams, I sing. This time I have Lambert as a guest. He even did some remixes for me. We're gonna have fun."

Some of the watchers were falling away now that they knew it wasn't exclusively a Bewitchery stream (even though Lambert had made that clear on Twitter), and Jaskier almost sighed in relief. The chat was still blindingly fast, compared to what he was used to.

A flood of follows and subscriptions also didn't help his nerves. "I… I'll give you guys a moment to get settled. This is honestly a lot more than I expected."

Some of the chats were freaking out about something Lambert was doing, but Jaskier didn't notice him doing it. Lambert glared into the camera as if to tell them to keep their mouths shut. What had he been doing? Blushing like a fucking idiot after looking at Jaskier being _nervous_ for once. _That’s_ what.

"First song?" Lambert asked casually, looking off.

"First song." He agreed.

_**Why do I keep finding myself so surprised?** _   
_**The qualities you openly have advertised** _   
_**A bigger man might not feel quite so compromised** _   
_**But I've never been a saint and I won't start tonight** _

_**It's burning me up, I've heard it enough** _   
_**I won't let your lousy reputation throw me off** _   
_**I've heard it enough** _   
_**I won't let your lousy reputation throw me** _

_**I've heard some things I guess it's better not to know** _   
_**Pretty bad as far as first impressions go** _   
_**A bigger man could probably get past it all** _   
_**Oh, the problem here is I just won't grow up** _   
_**So what?** _

_**It's burning me up, I've heard it enough** _   
_**I won't let your lousy reputation throw me off** _   
_**I've heard it enough** _   
_**I won't let your lousy reputation throw me** _   
_**Off… off… off…** _   
_**Off… off… off…** _   
_**Off… off… off…** _   
_**Off… off… off...** _

_**It's burning me up, I've heard it enough** _   
_**I won't let your lousy reputation throw me off** _   
_**I've heard it enough** _   
_**I won't let your lousy reputation throw me off** _   
_**I've heard it enough** _   
_**I won't let your lousy reputation throw me off** _   
_**I've heard it enough** _   
_**I won't let your lousy reputation throw me off** _

Lambert certainly looked like he was having fun. He was more excited for the next one though. They'd been playing it together for the last couple days and he was quite partial to it. The fact that he was going to be singing along, offering a bit of harmony late in the song, also helped. Singing with Jaskier was honestly his favorite thing.

_**I've been waiting for months,** _   
_**waiting for years,** _   
_**waiting for you to change.** _   
_**Aw, but there ain't much that's dumber,** _   
_**there ain't much that's dumber** _   
_**than pinning your hopes on a change in another.** _

_**And I, yeah I still need you,** _   
_**but what good's that gonna do?** _   
_**Needing is one thing, and getting,** _   
_**getting's another.** _

_**So I been sitting around,** _   
_**wasting my time,** _   
_**wondering what you been doing.** _   
_**Aw, and it ain't real forgiving,** _   
_**it ain't real forgiving** _   
_**sitting here picturing someone else living.** _

_**And I, yeah I still need you,** _   
_**but what good's that gonna do?** _   
_**Needing is one thing, and getting,** _   
_**getting's another.** _

_**I've been hoping for months,** _   
_**hoping for years,** _   
_**hoping I might forget.** _   
_**Aw but it don't get much dumber,** _   
_**it don't get much dumber** _   
_**than trying to forget** _   
_**someone when you love them.** _

_**And I, yeah I still need you,** _   
_**but what good's that gonna do?** _   
_**Needing is one thing, and getting,** _   
_**getting's another.** _

Meanwhile, inside the Denny's they'd been sitting in, waiting for food for the last forty-five minutes, Vesemir and Geralt both sat with phones in hand, watching the stream, each with a set of earphones. Vesemir was borrowing Eskel's. Eskel watched Vesemir's look of joy, and Geralt's look of sullen, aching loneliness. He hailed the waiter and asked for a smoothie.

Geralt listened to the song end, remembering that the original track went on much longer. The haunting echo at the end, singing "When? When? Why not now? Why not me?" It was a little too on the nose for him right now. And for all they both skipped that long interlude so as not to bore the chat, Geralt still felt it in his bones and hated it.

He would have to talk to Jaskier after this. He would corner him and talk to him. He had to.

Back inside the bus, Jaskier and Lambert were psyching up for another fun song they could both have fun with. Layering their voices on top of one another, in perfect, practiced unison, the chorus felt even more punchy than usual. Jaskier had said Lambert was much more fun to sing with than Valdo. Lambert didn't know who Valdo was, but _eat your heart out, motherfucker._

_**Cast off the crutch that kills the pain** _   
_**The red flag waving never meant the same** _   
_**The kids of tomorrow don't need today** _   
_**When they live in the sins of yesterday** _   
_**Cast off the crutch that kills the pain** _   
_**The red flag waving never meant the same** _   
_**The kids of tomorrow don't need today** _   
_**When they live in the sins of yesterday** _

_**Well I've never seen us act like this** _   
_**Our only hope is the minds of kids** _   
_**And they'll show us a thing or two** _   
_**Our only weapons are the guns of youth** _   
_**It's only time before they tighten the noose** _   
_**Then the hunt will be on for you** _

_**The red flag waving never meant the same** _   
_**No, the red flag waving never meant the same** _

_**Cast off the crutch that kills the pain** _   
_**The red flag waving never meant the same** _   
_**The kids of tomorrow don't need today** _   
_**When they live in the sins of yesterday** _   
_**Cast off the crutch that kills the pain** _   
_**The red flag waving never meant the same** _   
_**The kids of tomorrow don't need today** _   
_**When they live in the sins of yesterday** _

_**Like the smallest bee packs a sting** _   
_**Like a pawn checkmates a king** _   
_**We'll attack at the crack of dawn** _   
_**Build a ladder if there's a wall** _   
_**Don't be afraid to slip and fall** _   
_**Speak for yourself or they'll speak for you** _

_**The red flag waving never meant the same** _   
_**No, the red flag waving never meant the same** _

_**Cast off the crutch that kills the pain** _   
_**The red flag waving never meant the same** _   
_**The kids of tomorrow don't need today** _   
_**When they live in the sins of yesterday** _   
_**Cast off the crutch that kills the pain** _   
_**The red flag waving never meant the same** _   
_**The kids of tomorrow don't need today** _   
_**When they live in the sins of yesterday** _

_**Like a fire, don't need water** _   
_**Like a jury, needs a liar** _   
_**Like a riot, don't need order** _   
_**Like a madman, needs a martyr** _   
_**We don’t need them, we don't need them** _   
_**We don’t need them, we don't need them** _   
_**We don’t need them, we don't need them** _   
_**We don’t need them, we don't need them** _

_**Cast off the crutch that kills the pain** _   
_**The red flag waving never meant the same** _   
_**The kids of tomorrow don't need today** _   
_**When they live in the sins of yesterday** _   
_**Cast off the crutch that kills the pain** _   
_**The red flag waving never meant the same** _   
_**The kids of tomorrow don't need today** _   
_**When they live in the sins of yesterday** _

_**(We don’t need them, we don't need them)** _   
_**Cast off the crutch that kills the pain** _   
_**(We don’t need them, we don't need them)** _   
_**The red flag waving never meant the same** _   
_**(We don’t need them, we don't need them)** _   
_**The kids of tomorrow don't need today** _   
_**(We don’t need them, we don't need them)** _   
_**When they live in the sins of yesterday** _   
_**(We don’t need them)** _

Jaskier got the chat's attention. "Last stream, one of my long-term watchers, friends, and mods requested a song. So here it is. Enjoy!"

In the Denny's, Vesemir and Geralt exchanged looks that spoke an entire conversation as the first notes rang out.

Lambert literally hated this song. Vesemir had played it _to death_ when he was young. It got old. That being said, Jaskier obviously had no qualms in singing it. More surprisingly, Lambert found himself staring slack-jawed at Jaskier as he got into it. He had not been prepared for how confidently Jaskier would launch into this song.

 _How. The actual fuck. Can you make me like a song I swore I would never willingly listen to_ _again_.

After it was done, Lambert fucking clapped, and considering his goal during the song had originally been going to get a soda, he had no idea what to do with himself once he realized he looked like an idiot. Too late for that soda now. He was going to be helping with the next song; he'd get them both drinks after this next one.

**_Hello, I've waited here for you_ **   
**_Everlong_ **   
**_Tonight, I throw myself into_ **   
**_And out of the red_ **   
**_Out of her head, she sang_ **

**_Come down, and waste away with me_ **   
**_Down with me_ **   
**_Slow how you wanted it to be_ **   
**_I'm over my head, out of her head she sang_ **

**_And I wonder when I sing along with you_ **

**_If everything could ever feel this real forever_ **   
**_If anything could ever be this good again_ **   
**_The only thing I'll ever ask of you_ **   
**_You've got to promise not to stop when I say when_ **   
**_She sang_ **

**_Breathe out, so I can breathe you in_ **   
**_Hold you in_ **   
**_And now I know you've always been_ **   
**_And out of your head, out of my head I sang_ **

**_And I wonder when I sing along with you_ **

**_If everything could ever feel this real forever_ **   
**_If anything could ever be this good again_ **   
**_The only thing I'll ever ask of you_ **   
**_You've got to promise not to stop when I say when_ **   
**_She sang_ **

**_And I wonder..._ **

**_If everything could ever feel this real forever_ **   
**_If anything could ever be this good again_ **   
**_The only thing I'll ever ask of you_ **   
**_You've got to promise not to stop when I say when_ **

**_She sang..._ **

Lambert, listening to their voices intertwine during the last half of the song, had a realization:

Singing love songs had never come naturally to him. _Singing_ had never come naturally to him. But singing along with this dorky, showy little twink was _doing something_ to him, because this felt natural. And somewhere in the harmony, he had trouble picking out which voice was his.

Yeah, he needed a drink, alright. But alcohol would make it harder to sing.

The next song would be even worse, he realized. Jaskier had confided it was a very personal song, one he rarely sang anymore. When he'd sang it to Lambert, he'd sank into it. "You wanna know how we could make this better?" He'd asked. "We should increase the tempo by like... triple. And make it... like... an electronic old school emo song."

Jaskier visibly tried to imagine what that would sound like. "Am I having a stroke?"

Lambert laughed. "Totally gonna make a cover of it like that. One day."

But for today, for the stream, it was the acoustic version Lambert had been mastering.

**_Last night I fell in love without you._ **   
**_I waved goodbye to that heart of mine_ **   
**_Beating solo on your lawn_ **

**_Every aching wound will cauterize and bruise_ **   
**_In memory of what we used to call in love_ **   
**_And only time will tell if violins will swell_ **   
**_In memory of what we used to call in love_ **   
**_Used to call it love_ **

**_Last night I fell in love without you_ **   
**_The coup-de-grace that set me off_ **   
**_Would've made for decent fiction_ **

**_Every aching wound will cauterize and bruise_ **   
**_In memory of what we used to call in love_ **   
**_And only time will tell if violins will swell_ **   
**_In memory of what we used to call in love_ **   
**_Used to call it..._ **

**_Last night I fell in love without you_ **   
**_The stars at night aren't as big and bright_ **   
**_As you make them out to be_ **

**_Every aching wound will cauterize and bruise_ **   
**_In memory of what we used to call in love_ **   
**_And only time will tell if violins will swell_ **   
**_In memory of what we used to call in love_ **   
**_In memory of when we used to call it love_ **

It was time. Jaskier and Lambert looked at each other. Jaskier started. "Remember how last time I played a cover of a song someone requested? I have two more today! Surprise surprise! Covers everywhere!"

Lambert made a noise. "It'll be better this time because a song is always more sexy if I'm in it."

Jaskier hitched an eyebrow at him. "According to the chat, nobody was aware you could even sing until tonight." There was a look of pride on Jaskier's face that Lambert tried to ignore.

Lambert had known this song would be the death of him. And when he cut in for the second verse, to have Jaskier backing him up, he wondered if his guts would stop flailing around in his throat. He was afraid his chorus shrieking would regurgitate said guts all over the place.

The song was. A bit too good at giving Lambert a mental image of what he _definitely_ couldn't do. The kind of things that made "throwing him on his bed and making him ticklish" look innocent. Which it _was_ , he reminded himself. _Totally_ not a thought he was having often that led to awkward fantasies he didn't want to admit to having.

At least it was almost over. They could both focus on this song, and how fun it was. It helped he knew Keira would be seething, trying to shut whatever Fringilla was playing it on off. He kept thinking about Keira to kill his erection. It was easier that way, and that's what he was here for, anyway, right?

_** WELCOME TO THE MIND FUCK! ** _

_** Hold on a second ma’am without a care  
The clothes you wear don’t give a damn  
Sleeping up and down the block  
They got you knocked up by a man  
Thinking you’re the mother mary  
Pure but very dumb and can’t  
Kick the dick from out your mouth  
But do you even understand?  ** _

_** Hold on a moment sir without a heart  
What kind of shit you tryin’ to sell?  
Talking up a simple girl  
Ya picked her cherry very well  
Promising the sun and moon  
The story that you always tell  
Now you’re out the door?!  
I hope you cherry pick your way to hell  ** _

_** “When’s it coming? Can’t recall Oh mirror mirror on the wall”  
Sex and bitter cynicism, Laughing, watch it start to fall  
Picture perfect pandering, Pathetic, made you miserable  
Though I shouldn’t care I couldn’t wait to finally see them all in hell  
(I’ll drag them as we crawl)  ** _

_** Ah, doing it right, feeling that high,  ** _ _**  
taking what’s mine And I feel just fine  
You took it all away so now this hero cries in pain  
Holding you tight, fighting all night,  
telling me why But I can’t rewrite  
The memories I made of you and me won’t go away  ** _

_** WELCOME TO THE MIND FUCK! ** _

_** Covered in cuts from head toe, A kinky kind of crazy, not enough  
Can you feel it too? The kind of pain made out of real love  
See the needy, greedy me we bleed to feed so easily?  
Idiocracy she breathes We need to teach her everything!  ** _

_** Don’t ya know, it’s time to go? “So hurry up or fall behind!”  
Don’t know what they’re talkin’ bout? “Well strap on in, enjoy the ride!”  
Can’t see what’s ahead at all? “I guess we’re gonna travel blind!”  
Though I shouldn’t care at all I’m just a drop of water in the sea  
(And that’s a part of life)  ** _

_** Ah, changing my face, bearing that pain,  
joy that I made And you threw away  
The heroine alone and weeping all throughout the night  
Feeling okay, talking all day,  
repeating that play But they just won't fade  
The memories we made of you and me, l couldn't fight  ** _

_** Poker face but the lies you buried deep were found  
Run away but there will be blood to go around  
Try to hide but the scars will open up again  
“Didn't like but it's gonna hurt you in the end”  ** _

_** Take it in stride, meeting your eyes,  
planning all night Remember those times?  
Wallowing away in things I know I just can’t change  
Laughing at jokes, getting so close,  
didn’t we know That time goes so slow?  
The memories are fading,  
I’ll say goodbye to everything ** _

_** Welcome to the mind fuck.  
Welcome to the mind fuck, the mind fuck.  
WELCOME TO THE MIND FUCK!  
Welcome to the mind fuck, the mind fuck. ** _

Lambert looked dead into the camera, "Hey Keira." Jaskier's stomach flew into his ribcage as Lambert turned to Jaskier and, before either of them could overthink it, grabbed Jaskier’s shirt and pulled him in for a bruising kiss.

Jaskier was a good kisser, and had been blueballed by everyone for a bit now, so he didn't hold back either. There was tongue involved, and Lambert gave even better than he got, one hand still grasping his shirt, the other fisting in his hair.

The tongue ring was an interesting sensation, brushing just slightly on the roof of his mouth, and Jaskier made a small, helpless noise, biting at Lambert's lip as he departed, the click of teeth against his lip ring making Lambert huff a small gasp.

With how sensitive the mic was, Jaskier could only imagine what the stream had picked up, and he felt his face heat 1000% more.

They both flipped off the camera. Lambert grinned lopsidedly, way too satisfied, Jaskier’s dazed, flushed face completely transparent, mouth still open a bit, breathing like his life depended on it. Lambert leaned in closer to Jaskier’s mic, right up on his neck and growled. "Bewitchery is for everyone, except you, Keira." And he flashed his tongue ring wickedly to the camera.

Jaskier saw the frantic speed of the chat and realized what he'd done was likely going to be clipped and shared. Everywhere. And probably instant messaged to Vesemir a million times. Fringilla owed him big time. But this hadn’t been part of the deal-- so…

 _Oh, fuck, it was worth it anyway_. Jaskier realized, before his common sense kicked his ass. _IS IT REALLY, YOU DAFT PRICK? HOW ARE YOU GOING TO LOOK THIS MAN IN THE EYES KNOWING YOU WANT TO **SUCK HIS LIP RING OFF HIS FACE!**_

But he was lightheaded now, and Lambert's hand that was fisted in his shirt was now stabilizing his shoulder. It was the only thing keeping him upright after that. He felt drunk, and he could still taste Lambert on his lips-- which he knew because he licked his lips and practically relived the whole experience in a moment. Heat flared in his guts and he looked down at his legs, wide-eyed and concentrating on _killing every feeling he was currently feeling_.

Because they'd both agreed before this: this was the revenge they could both revel in. Keira couldn't control him anymore, and would hate the idea of Lambert being with Jaskier more than anything else in the world. They didn't have to actually do anything.

A kiss was cheap for both of them. Usually.

But Jaskier hadn't figured just how into it he'd be. Pent up as he was, it was just stoking a smoldering fire back to life-- and Lambert hadn't used his sex mix in a while, so he could only guess he wasn't the only one with too much sexual energy and no release.

Jaskier had carefully kept his feelings out of it. He wasn't _meant_ to have feelings. He knew how those ended, and though he didn't want to believe Lambert-- or Eskel for that matter!-- would purposely hurt or abandon him… it didn't stop the trepidation from rising unbidden and slowly unraveling him as he sat there in his head and watched the chat go fucknut insane.

Lambert finally released Jaskier's shoulder and clapped his hands. "That was fucking great. Wish we could see her face."

"Yep!" Jaskier said, too chipper, eyes still distant as he went through the motions of performing. "I'm sure we'll get an inside scoop later and I just. _Can't_ wait!"

If Lambert noticed the change in Jaskier, he gave nothing away to the chat. Likewise, only Jaskier, had he been looking at Lambert instead of anywhere else, would have been able to discern the subtleties of his expression: Panic. Realization.

He squeezed Jaskier's shoulder and pulled him closer. "Chat, calm down. It's just two himbos sharing a revenge kiss." He gave another of those devastating smiles. "Anyone who sees me after a show knows I _love_ to kiss." He made a kissy face. “How ‘bout it, Buttercup? Got anything to add?”

“Nope! I think that just about covers it!” Jaskier’s voice was tighter than it should have been, face still strained in the act of _EVERYTHING IS NORMAL GODDAMMIT!_ “Join us next time, if you like! I might be alone, but I might not be. Hopefully I won’t fail to entertain you all. Thank you to all my new friends, to all of Bewitchery’s lovely fans who are supporting me. I can’t wait to see you guys on tour! Goodnight, lovelies!” and to hide the fact he was about to hyperventilate, Jaskier closed the chat immediately, shutting off the stream, and closing the laptop as quickly as he could without hurting it.

Silence rang clear for a moment. Lambert was the first to break it, surprisingly. “Welp. That. Went well. Sorry if I was a bit rough.”

“That is _o_ kay!” Jaskier said, sounding vaguely less human and more like an alien parodying human speech. “Feel like I know you better now.” He forced a laugh.

Lambert laughed back, just as stiff-- **SHIT, WRONG WORD!** “You are a damn good actor. Either that, or I’m better than I gave myself credit for. Care to stroke my ego?”

“Only if you stroke mine first.” Jaskier shot back. Yes, falling into this fake-flirting was exactly the distance he needed after _that_. “Also, isn’t the phrase supposed to be _stoking_ the ego? Like a fire?”

Lambert went to his cot and flopped down on his front to hide his pre **dic** ament, thinking, _you’ve stoked my goddamn fire you fucking asshole, that was unfair_. Those noises were going to haunt him for _years_. The feeling of those lips, the hunger he'd felt at the eagerness turned back onto him-- Lambert groaned into the pillow without thinking how he would explain it.

“Vesemir’s gonna kill us.” Jaskier agreed. “Well, probably you more than me.”

Lambert groaned again in answer.

“I’ll stick up for you, though. So probably me more than you.” Jaskier went on. “We’ll both be dead afterward, so at least we won’t have to worry about the fangirls trying to attack you after shows.”

Lambert leaned up now. “Oh, fuck. I said that, didn’t I?”

“You really did.” Jaskier laughed.

“Oh my god, _no_!”

“What?”

“We’re gonna have so many people trying to fight up on the stage to suck us off while we play!”

Jaskier paused. “Has that… happened?”

“WHY DO YOU THINK WE HAVE FUCKING SECURITY GUARDS!”

Jaskier laughed. “Oh, my god. It all makes sense.” He paused. “But wait-- you said most of the stage-stealers were looking for a fight.”

“Jealous boyfriends and husbands, sometimes. Other time we just really don’t want to know which reason is bringing them _that_ close. Either way, it’s not something we’re looking for, fight or fuck.”

“I’ll be sure to warn Zoltan and the rest of the crew.”

Lambert turned his face back into the pillow and groaned in agony again.

Eskel stuck his head in from outside the bus. “Hey, guys? Vesemir looks like someone shat in his coffee, and Geralt just threw his phone full tilt at the ground and destroyed it. How’d the stream go?”

Jaskier looked at Lambert. Lambert looked at Jaskier.

Too sweetly, Jaskier said. “Maybe he’ll change the name to _SorryNotSorry_ , then.”

Lambert’s face was priceless. Eskel blinked and his head rocked from the blow of the words. A pause… “And Vesemir?”

Jaskier’s face went tight. “I’m so fucked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided that, since this AU still has witchers and mages and they have powers still, maybe Yennifer just portals everywhere like in canon. Sometimes the easiest explanations are simplest. 
> 
> The original version of "Fell in love without you" is a trip. I hadn't heard the original, heard the acoustic version first, so i looked it up, and immediately clicked off because it gave me whiplash. Jaskier's reaction of "Am I having a stroke" is 100% me.
> 
> For anyone who cares, I have a story about the song Who's Loving You, and why I'm going to eventually include a cover of it in here instead of the original link i put in. When i was a smol child, my mom would have me sing that song. I was like, four or five. She said it would give her goosebumps every time. I didn't sing the song for somewhere close to twelve years-- i guess i forgot about it at some point. A few months ago, the song popped into my head at work. I work in a loud factory, so I decided no one would notice if i sang it. For unknown reasons, I remembered almost every word, every note... I guess from muscle memory alone. And when I say I belted that shit, I mean i fucking BELTED it. People at work ask me sometimes to sing, and that's usually what I default to, because i love the reactions i get. I can't wait to share it with you guys-- but the first person i'm going to send that cover to is my mother. That's the reaction i think i'm looking forward to the most.


	11. Reconciliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt and Jaskier finally talk.
> 
> Vesemir googles "himbo."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think there's something wrong with me lmao. The panic attacks from last week were mostly from stress at work. It boiled over today. I had my hair put up too tightly. It was long and I hated it. It hurt my head, and the balaclava I wear at work was pushing too hard on it, so it felt like my skull was splitting open. So I may have had a nervous breakdown, taken some scissors and cut all my hair off in the breakroom at work, throwing away about a foot's length of thick hair. It took a lot longer than I expected it to, the scissors were dull. 
> 
> They sent me home for it. They might fire me. I used company scissors to do it and did it on company property and on company time-- otherwise, I guess they wouldn't have cared. I was manic the entire time, and the feeling of relief was amazing... but now it's sinking in, about 11 hours later, I'm probably going to get a call in a few hours saying "don't come back" and then I will be absolutely fucked.
> 
> I'm gonna be okay. I always find a way. Just gonna keep writing until I figure it out, because that helps me organize my thoughts. Sorry for worrying you guys, I'll keep you posted on what happens. Worst case scenario, I'll ask my brother to let me work at Denny's, or something. 
> 
> Silver linings: IF I don't have to go to work, I can record some songs! I feel about 20lbs lighter in multiple ways now that all that hair is gone!
> 
> 7/29/20 EDIT NOTES: Continuity issues; story has changed throughout writing from how originally imagined. This is a good thing. Will add in extra tidbits for anyone chancing a reread. Enjoy!

Geralt was calm, even seeing Jaskier. It was when he and Lambert met eyes that Geralt showed a face so hostile that Vesemir turned on his heel and decided to go to the Denny's bathroom despite saying it smelled horrible in there and that he'd wait for the next gas station.

Eskel sheepishly followed Vesemir when he noticed Geralt wasn't going to move from the entrance of the bus and let him on. He and Lambert held wordless stares.

"We are not doing this." Jaskier said. " _Not_ doing this."

Geralt's eyes didn't flick to Jaskier, but he could see it register on his face, tiny movements of his scowl.

"Lambert." Geralt said. "Come talk to me outside."

Lambert went to do so, and Jaskier shot up between them. "No, no! This is just as much about me as him. If you have something to fucking say, you will say it here and now!"

Geralt did look at Jaskier now, and his expression morphed. Confusion, hurt, something akin to righteous anger-- but no jealousy.

"You treated him like a joke." Geralt said to Lambert. "Like it was nothing to you."

Jaskier looked at Geralt, felt his brain give up. He sat down on the floor and laughed. "Are you _fucking_ kidding me?"

Lambert and Geralt looked at each other in confusion.

Jaskier leaned back against Lambert's legs and looked up at him, busting back into laughter again. "Geralt, you…" he looked back at him. "Oh, my fuck. Oh my _fucking_ fuck. You threw your phone because I didn't take a kiss seriously? Because Lambert didn't?"

Geralt stared at Jaskier as his face hardened and his eyes went cold. The laughter bled from his voice. "Since when did it fucking matter? I remember someone else not taking it seriously, who he fucking kissed."

Lambert realized, _oh, it's gonna be THIS kind of fight_. And backed away.

Geralt held Jaskier's gaze until it was too cold. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry, Geralt? Sorry for _what?_ For breaking your phone in a temper tantrum? For trying to take your emotional constipation issues out on Lambert?" He paused.

"How about we go back further. Are you sorry for pretending to be someone else for years? Yeah, I know. _ImSorry_ , really? You couldn't have made it more obvious?"

"When did you figure it out?" Geralt asked.

Jaskier bit off, "Not that it fucking matters, but Vesemir let it slip last week. I connected the dots."

_No wonder he was taking his chances in the Denny's bathroom._

Geralt's face was darkening like it did when he was thinking. _So… he knew already, that day? He was going to kiss me, knowing everything?_

"Or are you actually going to say you're sorry for using me and then tossing me off when I became too much of a third wheel?"

Geralt looked angry now, _really_ angry. "That isn't what happened!"

"Do tell, then. What happened? How was I supposed to take the words you shat out of your mouth?"

* * *

To say Geralt and Jaskier were close back then was an understatement, to say the least. Jaskier was introducing himself to makeup, trying to get the hang of it to do his face contouring. He was just getting comfortable with binding, but his face and voice were bothering him.

Geralt listened silently when Jaskier would talk about it. And he began searching for ways to help. Geralt, however, knew less about makeup than he did about having long, deep, two-sided conversations, and so he started looking for people who could help.

That was how they met Yennefer. She was a Graduate who had fallen on hard times. Her obsession of the day was brocade velvet, but her passion was makeup. She was stunning, and the dangerous aura about her was hypnotic.

She and Geralt got along suspiciously well. In little time, he felt comfortable enough to ask her to help Jaskier learn how to do makeup. Yennefer enjoyed the idea of having Geralt in her debt. Jaskier got his lessons.

Yennefer and Jaskier didn't necessarily hate each other. They had something of a rivalry, though. Jaskier came to understand, because of her, that the kisses Geralt had given him weren't apparently that special. Yennefer could always get more.

It slowly occurred to Jaskier that he was in the way. But that _couldn't_ be right. He and Geralt were inseparable. Geralt _always_ humored him, even if he didn't always take his advice.

Jaskier started to feel the same empty feeling he'd felt with his ex. Wondered if, if he pretended again, Geralt would remember him. Choose him.

It was painfully clear: the wordless display of love he thought he had received… was not as true as he had felt on his end. Geralt hadn't _said_ "I love you," **because Geralt wouldn't lie to a friend.**

A friend.

It all came to a head when he and Yennefer fought. Jaskier looked like he wanted to be anywhere else, but a selfish part of him relished this, hoped it would show Geralt he was wrong about her.

Yennefer spouted some cryptic bullshit, as usual, and left in a haze of ozone. Jaskier couldn't remember it clearly, but Geralt could. She'd said, "I'm not going to be your distraction, Geralt. The things you have to face are not my problem. I have my own, thank you."

Jaskier saw the tension in Geralt's shoulders, faced away from him. Saw him clutch his fists, loosen them, and clutch them again.

"Well… it's--"

Geralt had whirled around. He seethed, his eyes wild and hazed. "Why are you always here, always butting in when it's not your business!"

Jaskier looked like he'd been stricken, but that wasn't enough to make Geralt stop.

"Just fucking leave me alone so I can think clearly in some goddamn peace and quiet."

Jaskier stared at Geralt, waiting for him to take it back. _Praying_ that he'd take it back. When it was clear he wouldn't, Jaskier backed toward the door, trying to stammer something, _anything_ , but his throat closed on everything that wasn't a sob, so he turned and just ran.

As the door closed behind him, Geralt's face fell, and he found himself alone in a room, having pushed away everyone because he had no idea what he was feeling… even when everyone else did.

It was harder for Jaskier. Alone and hurt, he faced that he'd been wrong. And in the resultant self-destruction, found himself back on his ex's doorstep.

He didn't want him. Neither wanted the other. Jaskier wasn't willing to pretend to be something he wasn't anymore. Even for love.

 _Especially_ for love.

He couldn't go back home. He couldn't stay with his ex. Without Geralt, what did he have? Who?

His ex reconsidered. Indulged Jaskier's feelings. Jaskier let him manipulate him. He felt like he deserved the gaslighting, the manhandling.

Jaskier floated between him and several other casual fucks. Wrote his first songs sleeping in a booth at a gas station one cold November night.

That was when he'd met Triss. Also down on her luck, she was sleeping in her car. Heard Jaskier busking for cash one afternoon before he hit the gym for a shower to get ready for a "date" with one of his casuals.

Triss helped him pull himself together. They survived winter's first clutch of snow and ice in her car. After that, they found couches to sleep on. Triss was adorable, and people were always ready to open their hearts to her. And their homes.

Jaskier had become a bit prickly in his time on the streets, but Triss filed it down gradually. They went in on a place together as soon as they had the money.

Jaskier had started streaming to raise money for his top surgery. It took a couple of years, a lot of marketing, and Triss sneaking money into his surgery fund jar. When he posted the link to his online fund, there were huge contributions from anonymous viewers, even though at the time he had a small following. It was overwhelming.

Valdo took credit for some of those donations, and Jaskier was just in the right mindset to believe him. Triss took care of Jaskier while he was recovering from the surgery, Valdo moved in for a while to help with bills and cleaning.

Hormones are a hell of a drug. After the surgery, Jaskier no longer had those hormones that were being produced, and, as many other people post-mastectomy, had a depressive spell. Triss suggested that they could all start playing music together once he healed up. Valdo agreed it would be fun, and Jaskier latched onto the idea.

The rest was history. Jaskier was not, by any means, mentally healthy. But he was healing, and figuring himself out. Triss was always there, they always helped and supported each other. The streams helped him structure his life. Valdo was… Valdo. He was here and there, mostly there. But he helped, and he didn’t have to do that.

He never once stopped thinking about the things he never said, the things he thought he didn’t _need_ to say. He replayed scenes in his mind every day for six years, each one less realistic than the last.

He wrote his songs. He performed. He used the validation of the audience to soothe the burn of rejection. As a character of the crowd, his value was in performing. He wore a face that others loved. He sang in a voice that others envied. He used words and lyrics that were subtle enough to be relatable, but visceral enough to convey the emptiness that even now ate at him.

And in his fantasies, it was always that Geralt came back, that he sought him out, that he apologized, that there were roses. That there were rings. A million things.

And in those fantasies, what did he do in answer?

**_Jaskier would laugh._ **

* * *

“Jaskier.” Geralt tried again, coming closer.

“Geralt.” Jaskier pulled himself to his feet and closed himself off, hugging himself.

“I was wrong.” He began.

Jaskier made a scornful sound, but didn’t interrupt. He’d been waiting six years, after all. Even if this was different from anything he would have dreamt up, he couldn’t deny that he needed it. Long overdue as it was.

“I couldn’t figure out myself. I was frustrated. I was stupid. And that doesn’t excuse what I did.” He took another step closer. “I hurt you, and I didn’t know how to fix it afterwards. Didn’t feel like I deserved to be able to fix it. But you deserved the attempt, at least, and I fucking failed at that.”

Jaskier bit his lip to keep from crying. _Get to the point so I can go face my death at Vesemir’s hands in the Denny’s bathroom_.

“I’ve thought about it. Every day since then.”

Jaskier whispered back. “Me too.”

“I couldn’t let go of you. You were always there for me, and I wanted to be there for you. The streams were the closest I could get to being there.”

“What about Yen?”

“She knew where my head was.” _And my heart._ “She understands.”

Jaskier nodded, looking down. “You have no idea what you put me through.”

“I want to know.” Geralt said. “Whatever it takes to make it up to you, to prove that I still care.”

Jaskier took a deep breath. Exhaled shakily. “Well. If that’s the case… I’ll give you that chance. But I will never be the person I was back then. The person who was willing to change anything to get your love is gone. If you want to know me, you’ll have to learn me like everyone else has.”

Eyes watery, he stepped forward the last bit, back straight, jaw set. He extended a hand. “Let’s start over, Geralt. Pleased to meet you.”

Geralt took his hand, feeling the firm grip that Jaskier gave. He didn’t want to release his hand, but Jaskier pulled it back just as firmly. “The pleasure’s all mine.” He said.

Jaskier turned away and walked toward his bunk, thoroughly exhausted. “You’d better hope not.”

* * *

Vesemir was surprisingly quiet. “I’m transferring the social media accounts to you. I’m not sorting through my inboxes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s none of my business. Thank you for doing the song, by the way. It was just as great as I thought it would be.”

“You were looking forward to teasing the fans about me. I’m sorry I took that away from you.”

“It was worse watching one of my foster sons stick his tongue down your throat and call himself a himbo-- I had to look that up, too.”

Jaskier put his head in his hands. “I’m _so_ sorry.”

Vesemir chuckled, surprisingly. “Remember how I said the boys are always raising hell?” Jaskier looked up at him. “I think Lambert knows what kind of hell he wants to raise. If you’re okay with it, you’re both consenting adults. It’s a better method of raising hell than… say, drinking an entire bottle of Jack Daniels I keep stashed under my bunk and going on a rampage for chicken nuggets before vomiting _entirely_ too much inside a McDonald’s playplace.”

Jaskier found himself laughing. “That happened?”

“Name a number between one and ten.”

“Ten?”

“ _At least_ that many times.” Vesemir said. “I can’t even keep drinks on the damn bus anymore. He finds them no matter where I hide them.” He sighed, leaning back in his driver’s chair. “I’ll enjoy drinking when I’ve retired.”

“You still trust me with this all, then?”

“You and Geralt finally made up. I’ve been watching that boy obsess over you for half a dozen years. You also kept the boys from fighting over you, which is more than I would have expected.”

“I mean this in the _kindest_ way possible, Vesemir: None of you understand subtlety or emotional intelligence.”

Vesemir nodded emphatically. “If I wasn’t aware of that, I’d be the dumbest old bastard in the world. I figured that out when I started raising four boys, all of which were classified as problem children.”

“You… jumped the gun, there, didn’t you?” Jaskier joked.

“Hmph. Maybe. But!” He grinned at Jaskier, the warmth reaching his eyes, blooming in the crinkling crows feet. “Of these three, at least one of them grew up right. Two on a good day, but…” Obviously, he meant Eskel was the good one. Jaskier could only guess the occasional good boy was Geralt, but that was laughable, too.

“Yeah. Honestly…” Jaskier smiled back, a distant look stealing into his eyes. “I think they all are alright. On a good day.”

Vesemir grunted. “Today a good day?”

Jaskier pushed up and looked back to where Eskel was snoring softly in the booth. Geralt was practicing on Steel (he’d been out of practice since everyone else was hogging it!) and looked up at him briefly before looking back to his feet, his fingers faltering on a chord. Lambert had his headphones in and was mastering something, bobbing his head enthusiastically.

“Yeah. It is a good day.” Jaskier said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all your comments and support. This fic is helping me keep some semblance of sanity, and I gushed to my work friends about how sweet all of you are. 
> 
> Stay tuned for the next chapter: A big reveal, and the approach of Winter!


	12. Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eskel finally reveals the song he's been working on.
> 
> Geralt finally reveals the song he's been working on.
> 
> These are two polar opposite moods. Sandwiched between them is Jaskier having too much fun thinking about sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for those of you who don't like sexual content, we're gonna be getting into that territory briefly in the first part of this chapter. It's just two paragraphs, but in a future chapter (probably next one) we'll be getting into something steamier to tide you guys over until later. I will make that skippable to anyone who doesn't want to participate, though!
> 
> To move on, there is another warning. The song in the first part of this chapter, Black Waltz, seems to be about depression and suicidal ideation, but with the reassurance that it's worth it to stay alive anyway. This song is one of my favorite songs ever-- it has helped me out of the darkness many times, and will continue to help me. I hope it hits right for you guys too.
> 
> Finally, as to my last note: I still have my job. I'm shocked, but thankful. Everyone says my hair looks good like this, too, which is funny because when I was cutting it, that was the last thing on my mind lmao. Need to cut the rest off. I will do that at home, though. I'm feeling better, and you guys play a huge role in that. The messages have helped me a lot, made me smile, and I've worked on this chapter hoping I could get it done quickly so I wouldn't worry you guys too much lol. I'm okay now, though! I promise!
> 
> 7/29/20 EDIT NOTES: Continuity issues; story has changed throughout writing from how originally imagined. This is a good thing. Will add in extra tidbits for anyone chancing a reread. Enjoy!

Jaskier kept them practicing and interacting over music, enjoying it immensely to see them come together so well. With Geralt there at last, the trifecta was complete, and everyone started actually cutting up. The tension had bled out, and in its place, another formed. It was the perfect storm.

Eskel would play his funny songs, some of which were familiar and would engage the others in singing along and laughing. Others, Jaskier would watch their faces as they reacted. For such stoic assholes, they sure would laugh when it was just them and Jaskier. It made him feel lucky to be able to see them like this. It was a heartwarming sensation to see them all relax around him.

Well… maybe not _completely_ relaxed.

Maybe it was the kiss, but Geralt and Lambert both tensed up when Jaskier would brush up against them. Somewhere in noticing that, Jaskier realized that Eskel had been like that all along.

 _Maybe it’s nothing._ Jaskier wanted to believe, but he knew better. Geralt was tense because every touch felt like fire, an echoing memory of a night shared too many years ago-- at least, that’s what Jaskier felt. Now that they were “starting over,” Jaskier was hard pressed to be truly bitter. Apprehensive, sure, but not bitter.

Geralt was starting to sing again, he’d noticed. It was raspy and sent shivers of excitement across Jaskier’s skin, like being rubbed with velvet against the grain. Chillbumps, and a frustrating feeling in the pit of his gut that made him feel hungry for something he couldn’t eat. And it was even worse, because Geralt _knew_ the effect, and continued to sing.

Eskel was beautiful and shy and adorable… and Jaskier felt shy, himself, considering that Eskel might have developed feelings for him. Every time he would joke around with the others, he’d always seek Jaskier’s eyes and there would be a little bloom to his smile. A little chuckle when he got to the punchline, as if it were his first time telling or hearing the joke himself, as if Jaskier’s reaction in particular was vital.

Eskel made the room feel warmer, more full, but it wasn’t about his size. When he smiled that adorable crooked smile, and that tiny, dark huff of a laugh escaped him, it was like everything could begin and end with him. Jaskier didn’t know how else to express it. He was working through it, though. Four chords and a few stanzas, but...

And Lambert? Well, the once-horrible memory of walking in on Lambert fucking someone… now was routinely re-visited late at night. And the kiss… Jaskier was hard-pressed to choose just one moment. Even remembering the belch that shook the walls didn’t quite dissuade him from the fantasies.

He’d once tried to drink away the image. The soft noises muffled against Lambert’s palm, of desperation and need. Now, though, his brain was traitorously obsessed with replacing the faceless recipient of Lambert’s ardor with himself.

He would think about how it might feel, backed up on the counter, Lambert’s hand pressed against his mouth. He’d laugh against it, perhaps, but it would fade into other noises, maybe he’d lick Lambert’s palm in an attempt to make him move it. Replace it with his mouth. Put his hands _anywhere_ else. He would wrap his legs around his waist, pulling him closer, his breath coming in short puffs--

A guitar pick bounced off his forehead. “Fuck, sorry Junebug.”

“No he isn’t.” Geralt growled.

“You’re just mad because you missed.” Lambert shot back.

Eskel nudged Jaskier. “Where did we lose you?”

 _Oh, hell_. “I have no idea what we were doing.”

“I _told_ you!” Lambert crowed, raising his hands dramatically.

Eskel silenced Lambert with a look and leaned closer. “We were discussing a new setlist. We’re planning to debut a new song at a strategically chosen location. Since you’re in control of the social media, we thought you could help us tease the new release.”

“Oooh, that sounds nice.”

Lambert huffed. “We were discussing which song to debut. Heatedly. Decide for us, or I’ll win by default.”

“Like hell.” Geralt spat.

“Boys!” Jaskier laughed. “Let’s settle down and look at our options.”

Lambert unplugged his headphones from his laptop. “I have a playlist of all the new songs.”

Jaskier nodded. “Count out all the ones I sing in. We’ll keep that for later.”

Eskel groaned. “Dammit, that was my pick!”

“I told you he wouldn’t go for it.” Geralt said.

“How many does that leave?” Jaskier asked, leaning to peek at the playlist himself. He pointed at a title. “What’s that one?”

Lambert looked away. “One of my originals. I wrote it for Coen’s Bonfire.”

“Bonfire?”

Eskel nodded. “Every winter, during the first big snow, all of Lambert’s old larping buddies--”

“They’re your friends too!” Lambert butted in.

Eskel continued over the top of him. “--come over in their gear and we have a reenactment of Behold The Crown.”

“That one video where the epic snowball fight happens, and about a million pinch harmonics make the song sound like BWEEP, BWEE WOO BWEEP, BWEEP, BWEE WOO BWEEP?”

“Yeah that one.” Eskel said easily, before continuing yet again. “We have the reenactment battle, and then we have a huge bonfire where we remember Coen.”

There was a pause. Lambert answers the unasked question. “Coen was in the video, too.”

Again, silence lasts. Geralt breaks it. “So, we have that song… and we have the one you pitched to us last month...”

Eskel raised his hand. “I’ve… um. Been working on one for a while. But if I show it to you, you have to promise you won’t… think too hard about it.”

Geralt groaned. “I swear, if this is like Teenie Weenie, I’m going to crush your skull with my thighs.”

“That is… an interesting threat. Also, what is Teenie Weenie?” Jaskier asked.

“It’s not like Teenie Weenie.” Eskel promised, but made no move to go on.

Everyone just waited awkwardly for him to give something away. Finally: “Uhm. I got the inspiration when we saw Jaskier play that first time, at his concert.”

“Oh?!” Jaskier’s head cocked at an almost uncomfortable angle.

“The lighthouse song. I liked… the storytelling aspect of it, and how it was… evocative.”

“Oh my god, that is so sweet.”

“Shut up, Junebug, he’s trying to talk.” Lambert playfully shoved Jaskier’s shoulder, his tone light.

“I’ve been working on it for a long time. You helped me come up with the progression, but I… wasn’t comfortable sharing the lyrics.”

“Oh! Black Waltz? Really?! You wrote Black Waltz without sharing it? Ohhhh, come now, tell me what you wrote!”

“Restrain yourself, Jaskier.” Geralt said, as if he sensed something else. Jaskier got the hint and looked at Eskel. He seemed nervous, of course. He still got that way, when he was pitching ideas seriously. But this was different.

He motioned for Geralt to pass him the guitar, and he cradled Steel. For once, it didn’t seem too small in his hands, as if Eskel was shrinking in on himself. “Don’t think too hard about it. It’s meant to be a good song.”

“Play it, sweetheart.” Jaskier said gently. “I can’t wait to hear it.”

It was softly picked at first. He rambled slightly over the intro. “I… uh… I want it to start soft and nice. But I want it to get heavy. I want it to be heavy enough to jar the hell out of people. I want it to feel abrasive, in… in a healing way.” He paused the strumming for a moment. “Like cutting an infection open to drain it.”

“Play it, Esk.” Geralt encouraged.

“We’ll add the heavy when we add the heavy.” Lambert supplied, helpfully.

Eskel nodded to himself, took a breath and started again, weaving the melody round himself. Jaskier loved the song, knew there was meant to be more to it, and so he hummed the supplemental parts that one guitar alone couldn’t reach. Eskel smiled briefly at him in answer.

He spoke the lyrics, just loud enough to carry over the music.

**_I entered the house on the hill one day, trying my best just to get away._ **   
**_No one was home, but the voices were clear. They let me know I was welcome here._ **

He hammered a harsher, abrasive bridge, punctuating with aborted strums. The percussion Jaskier had used before in his own band, Eskel had picked up somewhere along the line. When it came to the chorus, Eskel closed his eyes, sinking into the music, as if the words were more mantra than lyrics.

**_Life is so wonderful. Life is so beautiful._ **   
**_Stay a while. No one gets out alive._ **   
**_Life is so wonderful. Life is so beautiful._ **   
**_Just smile. No one gets out alive._ **

The tempo slowed to a crawl, sounding somehow jovial and melancholy, a revitalization of the introductory bit. No longer soft, but bold. Jaskier could see it as a waltz, it was how it was designed. But with lyrics, now Jaskier wondered.

What was Eskel dancing with?

The music stilled to single chords ringing out, as the next verse was ground out. He wasn’t quite singing it, but he was performing the words, as if telling a tale at a campfire. The melancholy of before intensified, but underneath it was something else. Jaskier couldn’t identify it.

_**I walked down through the halls of that haunted place.** _   
_**A whisper was leading me through the maze.** _   
_**Promising warmth, knowing my name.** _   
_**Knowing my reasons and why I came...** _

Again, out of nowhere, the harsh staccato of the bridge and its percussive beat. When it relented, the chorus didn’t appear yet, and he continued the verse, sounding less reserved, more firm.

_**A face in a painting looked down on me. Smiled at me loving and tenderly.** _   
_**Reached out her hand, stroking my hair. Suddenly voices were everywhere.** _

_**Life is so wonderful. Life is so beautiful.** _   
_**Stay a while. No one gets out alive.** _   
_**Life is so wonderful. Life is so beautiful.** _   
_**Just smile. No one gets out alive.** _

It was clear to him now, as the final chorus rang. He figured it out.

“What do you think?” Eskel asked.

Jaskier took a deep breath, inhaling over the course of a full minute. Geralt immediately bit his lip to keep from smiling. Lambert hitched a brow at Jaskier as he waited.

All in one long string of syllables, Jaskier spoke his exhale. “ _The song tells the story of someone who looked for a means to justify his depression but only found support and acceptance in an unexpected place, which challenged his view of his world, and begged the realization that the impermanence of life is one of the things that can make it worthwhile, like the phrase ‘this too shall pass._ ’”

Jaskier took another deep, but quicker breath. “And being as how he doesn’t need to hurry to divest himself of life, for it will end one day on its own, he can focus on the wonders and beauty of life, like those who’ve passed might wish they had. It is an optimistic approach to depression. A healing approach.”

You could hear a pin drop.

Faintly, Eskel shrugged.

“Did I get it?” Jaskier smiled at Eskel brightly. “I got it, didn’t I?”

Eskel very quietly made jazz hands, his shoulders pulled up around his ears. “You win novelty chewing gum.”

“My favorite!” Jaskier laughed, and the tension broke a bit, Eskel laughing back.

Lambert took the guitar as Jaskier more or less invited himself to a big Eskel bearhug. He strummed on it, trying to get that pattern down.

“No, no. Wrong.” Jaskier said, and then vocalized it for him, from Eskel’s lap. Lambert nodded, putting his pick between his teeth and trying again with his fingers. The tone was softer, more intricate.

Geralt looked at Eskel, blushing as Jaskier squeezed the shyness out of him. “That sounded good.”

Eskel looked back at him, blushing harder. “Sh-shut up.”

* * *

Jaskier wasn’t the only one stuck in his thoughts. Geralt was hard at work doing anything to not think. How close could he get to the truth without saying the words he knew would be rejected? He wrote songs, buried them deeper in his notebook, under scribbles of rejection more firm than anything else.

At last, he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Jaskier.”

He looked up, saw Geralt sitting there with his head in his hands. Jaskier was chewing a mouthful of chocolate-covered coffee beans. He offered the bag. “Whachup?”

“Is now a good time? For a song?”

Jaskier nodded and got up. “Chure, jus lemme--” He grabbed a water bottle and downed a healthy amount. “Yeah, what are you working on?”

“I know we have enough songs right now.”

“Never enough songs.” Jaskier laughed.

“I want to get the others on the idea I have, later. For now, I want you.” Geralt said.

Jaskier’s eyebrows shot up.

“Your _help_.” Geralt corrected, looking back to his notebook quickly. “I… thought maybe we could work together on this.”

“I mean, it’s only fair. I’ve written songs with everyone else.” He said, sitting back down with Geralt. “Just promise me if I go to kiss you this time, you’ll just accept it.”

Geralt sputtered.

“Just kidding. Anyway, show me what you’ve got. You were very vague last time.”

“Sorry.” He paused. “I… uh. Was thinking about that feeling. Remembering things that used to make me strong, but now just make me feel weak.”

“Ooh. That was poetic, I like that. Go on.”

Geralt chewed on his lip. “I felt like I would stay in the shadow of my mistakes forever, but now I feel like… maybe I got out of the shadow too late.”

“Mm. You’re covering the lyrics still. Show me!” Jaskier said. “I’ve been waiting to peek into your head for years!”

Geralt hesitantly let Jaskier move his hand from the page. Covered in scribbles, some illegible, there were definitely lots of thoughts here. But they were organized enough, painting a visceral picture of a man afraid of his own longing, of what pain it would portend.

“How does it go? Do you have the tune?”

“I wrote it with your voice.” Geralt said. _It was always in my head, I couldn’t do anything else with it._ “Can’t sing it myself.”

Jaskier paused with Steel already in hand. “That’s interesting.”

“I can play it for you, though.”

“Gonna scream it?”

“No. Just… gonna play it, let you figure out what goes where.”

“Oh, you’re horrible.”

Geralt smiled.

* * *

Eskel and Lambert got brought in on the song eventually. Everyone brought their own talents to it. Lambert mixed the electronic aspects in, Eskel helped with planning, lyrical coherency, and percussive planning-- oh, he had a huge theory on that! Jaskier was going to pick his brain on it later!-- and Geralt and Jaskier were wrapped up in the vocals.

Jaskier had known it would be intimate, singing with Geralt. But now, he was starting to understand. This song was written for him in more than one way.

_**It's 3 a.m. and I find myself sweating from all the same dreaming again** _   
_**The very same feeling, I catch myself cold in the end, you know** _   
_**I find myself holding on to anything that resembles your hand** _   
_**Together, together we were so strong** _   
_**I'm so weak! I'm so weak!** _

_**Is there something I've been missing?** _   
_**Tell me what's the difference if you're gone, gone** _   
_**'Cause you know that I'm addicted** _   
_**Know that I'm addicted to your soul, soul** _   
_**Only time will do us right** _   
_**I'm praying I'm wrong** _

_**Now I know I was the one who broke the promises** _   
_**Pushing you out because I wouldn't take the blame** _   
_**I was acting up because I knew it was the end** _   
_**Full of regret, my heart is calling your name** _   
_**Everything in life ain't always what it seems** _   
_**Rewind, erase, let's go and do it again** _   
_**This is what it was so it just had to be** _   
_**I can't see straight, that's why I'm numbing the pain** _

_**Living just for fun… Wasn't what I meant… Drink 'til I forgot** _

_**Is there something I've been missing?** _   
_**Tell me what's the difference if you're gone, gone** _   
_**'Cause you know that I'm addicted** _   
_**Know that I'm addicted to your soul, soul** _   
_**Only time will do us right** _   
_**I'm praying I'm wrong** _

_**I had you and I let you slip** _   
_**I had you and I let you slip away** _   
_**Slip away, slip away, slip away** _   
_**Slip away, slip away, slip away** _

_**Living just for fun… Wasn't what I meant… Drink 'til I forgot** _

_**Is there something I've been missing?** _   
_**Tell me what's the difference if you're gone, gone** _   
_**'Cause you know that I'm addicted** _   
_**Know that I'm addicted to your soul, soul** _   
_**Only time will do us right** _   
_**I pray that I'm wrong** _

Jaskier knew what the song was, or he thought he did. But what he didn’t notice was the way dread poured from Geralt in waves. Geralt was terrified. That he’d missed his chance because he was too afraid to apologize sooner. Because he knew the look in Lambert’s eye. In Eskel’s eye.

Yennefer had left him because she saw the same look in his.

Geralt was under no impression that Jaskier would choose him. Not when the others would treat him so much better. So the song was his way of reliving a dance, of weaving a part of himself through Jaskier’s hair, with the thought that if he was right it would be all he would ever get-- and it would have to be enough.

Praying that he might still luck out. Praying that Jaskier might read between the lines.

But ultimately, praying that, whatever comes, that they still can share the song. The time. The memories. Because the song is also a promise from him. An investment, a foundation. He would continue to build, more songs written in fits of inspiration of light dancing off brown hair and blue eyes in profile, staring out the bus windows at the scenery in sunset. The way the blue would glow, the way his hair would turn gold in the right light, and the small smile as he’d gaze out into the distance.

And he swore to both of them, even silently, that it would be enough. It was more than he deserved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this one is short, and I'm sorry. I'll post more in the next chapter, and it will include something special:
> 
> LAMBERT'S SEX MIX
> 
> Who wants to take a stab at what we'll see?


	13. Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lambert gets a handle on his stress.
> 
> Eskel and Geralt share a room...
> 
> Vesemir is a supportive dad.
> 
> Eskel and Jaskier talk about things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIRST OFF, IMPORTANT NOTICE: For anyone who doesn't like NSFW content, or prefer a warning beforehand, Here is your warning! Actually Two, because we're gonna have some surprising things happen in this chapter. 
> 
> First NSFW cutoff: When you get to the sex mix playlist, if you don't want to read about Lambert touching himself, skip to the line break.
> 
> Second NSFW cutoff: When you see ~, skip to the next ~. That is all!
> 
> Last thing: feel free to save the playlist I made. I might add more songs to it later. I um. Yeah. I like to sleep to these.  
> I added some additional content to make up for the fact some of this chapter won't appeal to everyone.
> 
> 7/29/20 EDIT NOTES: Continuity issues; story has changed throughout writing from how originally imagined. This is a good thing. Will add in extra tidbits for anyone chancing a reread. Enjoy!

“So who gets what room?” Eskel asked.

Vesemir got everyone’s attention. “Jaskier will bunk with me. The rest of you can sort it out yourselves.” Vesemir motioned to Jaskier. “C’mon, let’s go get burgers while they argue.”

Lambert called after them, “I want chicken nuggets!”

“We know!” Jaskier responded.

Geralt looked at Lambert and Eskel. Truth be told, he was relieved. If Jaskier roomed with Lambert, Geralt wouldn’t have slept well. Especially since they shared a wall.

“Well… Geralt, are you opposed to sharing a room with me?” Eskel asked.

Lambert groaned. “You guys are gonna make me sleep on the bus?”

“You almost always go sleep on the bus anyway, since you don’t like rooming with Vesemir.” Geralt reminded him.

“You guys always gang up on me!” Lambert whined.

“You can listen to your music, do whatever you want…” Eskel tempted him. “You would anyway, but you won’t be keeping us all awake.”

“Isn’t that the point, though?” Lambert huffed. “Fine, I’ll stay on the bus. But next time, I get a room! One of you guys can suffer.”

“Trust me, if one of us is rooming with you, that’s more suffering than staying on the bus.” Geralt said.

Eskel laughed. “We’ll have to draw straws.”

Lambert stuck his tongue out. “Next year, _no one_ will have to sleep on the bus when we stop here.”

That gave everyone pause. Geralt suddenly realized that Lambert was right. And what that meant.

Lambert didn’t read the room, as usual. Or, he didn’t care. “I’m sure Junebug would love to share a room with me. We’d probably stream again, and instead of watching through your broke-ass phone, you’ll drill a hole in the wall!”

Geralt growled, and Eskel pushed them apart just in time for Geralt to realize he had almost thrown a punch.

Lambert shrugged. Obviously unconcerned with how he’d gotten under Geralt’s skin. “I’d better go get the bus ready. You two have fun.” He walked off, a purposeful roughness to his gait.

“Something tells me, Geralt, that you haven’t apologized to him for that whole ordeal.” Eskel said gently.

“He’ll live.” Geralt growled.

Eskel sighed and grabbed Geralt’s shoulder. “C’mon, Geralt. Let’s go to our room.”

* * *

Lambert plugged his laptop into the speaker. He pulled up his unabridged Sex Mix, the one he used when he just wanted to chill and enjoy a night. When he could really take his time and have some goddamn privacy.

Funny. His mix wasn’t really doing as much for him lately. He was pent up, hadn’t had the energy to flirt with any of the roadies. It just… didn’t appeal to him recently.

He had absolutely _no idea_ why. Couldn’t _possibly_ be because he was hesitant to even jack off where Jaskier might see. He’d never been this weirdly aware before.

No matter. He was alone on the bus tonight. He was gonna paint some surfaces white. He’d start with Geralt’s bed.

No, he wasn’t _really_ going to. But it was tempting. _So tempting_.

He didn’t have chances like this very often. So he double-checked the door to the bus, and propped something up in front of it just in case. Normally, he wouldn’t care if someone walked in-- but this was the outlier.

Under his bed was a locked box. He took it out, fumbled around inside his zipped bodypillow case for the key, and opened it to reveal an old friend.

Ironically, all things considered, it was Keira who had started him down this path once upon a time. He’d mentioned he was interested in trying new things, and she was eager to try too. Not eager to make it easy on him, but Lambert didn’t care about pain; it was temporary, but a reminder for a small amount of time of what they did.

Even recently, when he fucked the roadies, Lambert would get them off and then kick them off the bus so he could finish himself off. He liked to feel used. That's what he justified it as. The rush, the hurry of getting done before the CD ended. ~~Of course, if they weren't around to see him come undone, that was a~~ ~~comfort.~~

Now, though, he could take his time. It didn’t hurt if he did it himself. Unless he wanted it to hurt. Sometimes he did.

The toy was just big enough that it almost wouldn’t fit in the box, the bottle of lube stuffed in alongside it, and a bottle of cleaner on the other side.

Maybe he didn’t need it? Maybe he could just ride it out without the toy? He didn’t always like the thoughts it put in his head. But he liked the relief, even if it left him feeling leaden in a part of him he couldn’t reach.

Who the fuck was he kidding? He already had it out and was cleaning it off.

The music lulled him into a false sense of comfort. It wasn't meant to turn him on, it was meant to undo the damage he would be doing. The songs made him feel safe, most of them from years ago, CDs stolen or burned, songs that he had once gone to sleep to, or newer songs that imitated that strange safety.

These were songs Keira hadn't touched. Parts of him she hadn't touched. The toy, however… that was part of the trauma. He couldn't let go of it.

Well, he could start out small. With a fantasy, as usual.

And he knew what to start with. It was all he could think about.

It was branded into his brain, how every nerve ending would fire under Jaskier’s touch, the way his body ached afterward. He felt needy and gross. And he damn near tore his lip chewing on it remembering that fucking kiss. Those tiny noises, helpless and goddamn delicious…

Here he was again, chewing his lip ring, wishing he could drag it against Jaskier’s skin. All of it. He would show him what the tongue ring was best for. He had a vibrating one around here somewhere...

But that wasn’t going to help his fantasy right now. Lambert sat on his knees on his cot and pictured Jaskier laying on it, looking up at him with those piercing eyes. Eyes that were too blue to be that warm. It made his skin feel too tight. And his pants.

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t thinking about the whole concept of “make you ticklish” as a foreplay scenario. Running his hands up Jaskier’s body, sitting on his hips to hold him still. The mirth turning to moans, and bucking him off becomes grinding against.

Lambert decided he was definitely hard enough, and freed his length. He put some of the lube in his hand and gave himself a pump, tugging just that side of too hard on the frenum ladder piercings. He was sensitive; he’d been holding out for a while. His breath was already coming harder. He braced his other hand on the bed, closing his eyes to avoid the sight of an empty bed.

Another couple of strokes, and he suddenly grew uncomfortable. He’d hoped he wouldn’t, but his luck was shit.

It was one of those things Keira had ruined. Every time he _felt_ something, _enjoyed_ something, she’d been there to tell him how ridiculous his face was, how shameless it was. Lambert couldn’t stand being looked at while in the throes-- the idea of Jaskier gazing at him with that same contempt, that same disgust. It made him dig his fingers into the bedsheets. He growled, opening his eyes to remind himself he was, indeed alone.

The toy was necessary after all.

He prepared himself, going too quick now in his need to _feel_. He might even need the pain, now. Anything to atone for the look on his fucking face.

He wondered if Jaskier had ever topped before. Fucked someone like him. He wondered what he’d feel, looking at him shoving three, four fingers into his aching hole. His face was pressed into the bed firmly, muffling his gasps and grunts.

He grabbed the toy with a shaking, slippery hand. Managed to spill enough lube on it to satisfy him, and lined it up, pressing enough to get it just inside before pausing. He looked between his legs, saw his leaking cock, and the girth of the toy, knowing how it would make him feel full and used.

This time he couldn’t bear to picture Jaskier. He wouldn’t be able to look at him straight after this as it was. And he couldn’t reconcile the idea of Jaskier being this rough on him as Lambert pressed harder, feeling the sting as the resistance made itself known. He was always way too tight. He'd honestly never been properly prepared, so he had no idea really that it didn't have to hurt at all.

His breath was trapped in his chest as, with one hand, he worked the toy as roughly as he could. With the other, he did his best to pump himself in time. He suffocated himself in the sheets, gasping and grunting and _hiding_.

He came with a desperate and almost pained shout, barely muffled. He panted, looking down at the mess he made. At the mess he _was_.

He kept the toy in and made himself get up. He didn’t want to prep himself again in ten minutes when he felt like going again, so he’d just keep it in and go get a drink from the fridge. Just had to wash his hands first.

When he went back to his bed, he looked at the sheets and cursed to himself. How the fuck was he going to do laundry? He forgot to put something down ahead of time.

_It’s always fucking something._

* * *

Geralt and Eskel sat in the room, each more nervous than usual. There was a reason they always shared their room. There was something only they could do for one another.

Eskel would get riled up sometimes, and he didn’t know how to take care of himself. He was more towards Graysexual than Demi. He wasn’t sure how it all worked, he just knew that when he felt the need for touch, there were precious few people he could turn to.

Geralt was one. Eskel would have asked Lambert at some point, but he wasn’t sure how to do so, or even how that would work. As much as he loved both of them-- and yes, he _very much_ loved them-- he didn’t know how Lambert felt about him, and didn’t know how to broach it. Lambert was terrified of attachment, anyway.

But now, with Jaskier in the next room, both men knew what the other was thinking. Both of them knew why they were riled up-- and neither of them wanted to say it. Should there be a line drawn here? Should they deny themselves this opportunity, as rare as it was, because of proximity? Or… because Geralt wasn’t interested anymore?

Eskel had been there when the frustration of his “relationship” with Yennefer had gone entirely down the shitter, when Geralt had tried to move on multiple times, tried to bury his failures in Eskel’s skin. Eskel would never tell him no; he thrived under Geralt’s love.

 _That_ was Eskel’s secret. He loved and wanted Geralt. He was terrified Geralt saw him only as a convenience-- but Eskel craved that closeness anyway. Geralt would never require the social acrobatics of other potential partners. Eskel had been content to being second fiddle to anyone Geralt was pursuing... but now Jaskier had come and complicated it all even more.

Geralt and Eskel both had their eye on the same man. Eskel also knew that if Geralt had to choose between him and Jaskier, he’d still be second fiddle. He wondered if he would do the same, if he won Jaskier’s heart. But that would never happen. Not when Jaskier had enough suitors to deal with.

 _He has more than one hand to be held._ Eskel thought. _But that’s just me being selfish._

Geralt hesitantly reached out. Eskel internally sighed in relief. Even if Geralt was caught up in Jaskier, the comfort of Eskel was alluring. No matter what Geralt needed, Eskel was always willing to help, and Geralt always returned the favor. But tonight, what they each needed was to be quiet.

~

There were two beds in this room, but now Eskel was climbing onto Geralt’s. Both of them laid facing each other. Eskel let his hand settle on Geralt’s hip. He forced his breath to be steady. Geralt pushed Eskel’s hair out of his eyes. Eskel closed his eyes as Geralt pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Both men were shirtless, their pants undone. Eskel never wore underwear; Geralt’s hand ventured down, combing through the hair on his chest and stomach, causing Eskel’s skin to tingle and his muscles to seize.

Eskel wanted to joke that the fangirls would shit themselves, if they only knew. His jokes and laughter were trapped in his throat along with his emotions; things he would never allow himself to vocalize. This was a sacred moment, where he could touch Geralt unrestrained. Where Geralt could touch him. Embracing.

Geralt pushed him onto his back and climbed over his knees, pulling Eskel’s pants down. Eskel bit his cheek to remind his voice to stay out of this. As Geralt slid down, his lips ghosting over Eskel’s prince albert, he looked up at him with those piercing eyes.

Another joke died on his tongue: _silver piercings for my cock, because you told me it’s a monster._

As for tongues… Geralt maintained merciless eye contact as he laved up the underside of his cock, closing at last when he reached the tip. Eskel put a hand on his shoulder, the other one holding Geralt's hair from his face.

Poised at the tip, Geralt's mouth hitched into a wicked smirk, and that was the only warning Eskel got before Geralt plunged his mouth down, all the way to the hilt.

Eskel choked but Geralt didn't.

Geralt's hair was like silk. The bits he wasn't holding tickled his thighs. Eskel was still concentrating so hard on being quiet.

Geralt, as Geralt was wont to do, showed no mercy.

His fingers worked lower as his mouth played. He felt them press just beneath his balls, working in gentle circles before moving to tease his hole.

Eskel was already dangerously close. Geralt's mouth knew exactly how to drag him to this edge; but Eskel knew Geralt just as well.

He was his first, after all. They were _each other's_ first.

Geralt pulled off of him, chuckling as he kissed the underside of his shaft. Eskel looked into those devastating eyes and nodded, getting up when Geralt let him. He rifled through his bag, looking for the oil and the condoms. Geralt came closer to him, Eskel felt his shadow over him and shivered in anticipation.

Geralt never had to say a word. It was in the gentleness of his hands as he caressed up Eskel's back. He leaned over Eskel, kissing the back of his neck and winding his arms around his waist.

"You'll have to let me get it." Eskel almost whined.

"Or…"

Eskel swallowed. "Or? Uh…" he felt Geralt's hands sink lower again, felt his whole body heat up. "Or we could…"

Geralt took the oil from Eskel's hand, pressing another kiss to the back of his shoulder. He prompted for Eskel to continue his thought by humming against his skin.

Eskel's voice cracked as Geralt's oiled fingers found his entrance again. "Here?"

"Hmm." Geralt agreed, kissing down Eskel's back. The teasing pressure turned to gentle plying. Eskel immediately began to push back onto his fingers.

He gasped at a nip of teeth against his side. "You fucker."

Again, that infuriating chuckle. "That's the idea." Geralt seemed to be having a lot of fun, and that made Eskel feel even warmer. Even in the dreadful chill of the AC.

_Gotta be quiet!_

Geralt growled against his skin, and he turned to jelly. "The bed would creak too much. Headboard is against the shared wall."

_Fuck. Hadn't noticed._

Eskel gasped as Geralt added another finger. His other hand wrapped around his cock. "Figured the floor has its own appeal?"

Another kiss to his back gave him chillbumps. "Should have grabbed some pillows."

Eskel looked up. They were close to another wall. He braced his arms on it, arching his back. "Fuck the pillows. I'm ready. I'm… God, fuck…"

"Hmm." Geralt pressed closer so Eskel could feel his cock against his thigh.

"Geralt, do it before I scream." His voice's desperation bled into the shake of his legs.

Geralt wanted to drag it out. But he wasn't going to embarrass Eskel like that. He doubted Vesemir wanted to hear this (again), either.

"Okay." Geralt finally responded, tearing open the condom wrapper. He sheathed and slicked his cock in oil and lined up, the same desperation beginning to eat at him. He went painfully slow, almost forcing Eskel to push back. He didn't want to hurt him; this was the best way he could make sure Eskel was comfortable. Once he knew the pace Eskel wanted, he would take over.

And the sight of Eskel pushing back onto him, arms trembling against the wall, biting down on his breaths… Geralt knew neither of them would last long.

As soon as Geralt figured out how Eskel wanted it, he leaned up, capturing one of Eskel's hands against the wall and lacing their fingers. Eskel's face turned to him, seeking. Geralt kissed his jaw, his tongue running along the edge of a scar there. "I'm gonna make you feel good. Signal me if…"

"Do it, Geralt." Eskel begged, pressing further back as Geralt began to thrust in earnest. "I… I just need…" Geralt was so good at keeping him on that edge, but Eskel honestly didn't know how to get off it.

"I've got you." Geralt whispered back, his other hand clutching his hip.

_Quiet. Quiet._

Eskel bit down on his own arm to keep from yelling. He was always so sensitive. He didn't know how to control his voice. Being quiet almost added something to it, though. He could hear the soft grunts of Geralt, the sound of their skin connecting.

And just as Geralt had thought, it didn't take long for either of them to finish. Eskel seized up around him, and took him along for the ride. Geralt was left breathless, gasping against Eskel's back.

He huffed a laugh against Eskel's nape, pressing a kiss there before he pulled away. He helped Eskel to his feet, watching carefully to make sure his knees didn't give.

"Lay down, I'll get us cleaned up."

~

Eskel didn't want to let go of Geralt's hand. But he made himself, turning his face away as he settled on the bed.

Geralt was always too gentle, it felt like. He treated Eskel like a treasure. It gave him hopes he couldn't afford, especially given that Jaskier would always come first.

Geralt spoke softly. "I need to tell you something."

Eskel felt his chest cramp. He searched Geralt's face for signs, but he knew what this was about. "I know." He said, quickly looking away again. "You don't have to say it, I already know."

Geralt was hesitant.

 _You're going to tell me you can't do this with me anymore._ Eskel thought. _Please don't say it. I know._

Geralt could see Eskel's eyes avoid his. Did he misjudge things?

"I'd feel better if I told you." He said.

Eskel still didn't glance up at him. The silence stretched.

"I… don't want to make the same mistake twice, Eskel."

That hurt. Bad. Eskel pulled his pants on, biting his cheek to keep his face straight. "How about a window?" He asked. "If someone comes in here, they'll smell sex. Don't want that." He got up and went to the window himself.

Geralt followed him. Eskel felt panic begin to eat at him.

Geralt opened his mouth again, and Eskel spoke before he could. "I'm inviting Nikki and Aiden to the bonfire. I think it's high time they came. Jaskier would love them, you know that."

At Jaskier's name, Geralt's eyes narrowed just a bit. He nodded, looking away. "Hm."

Eskel took a deep breath of the chilly autumn air that flooded the room. "I think they have a hot tub downstairs. Vesemir and Jaskier are probably already there."

Defeated, Geralt withdrew. "Hmm."

Eskel moved past him, touched his face a bit too gingerly. Geralt noticed his hands were shaking. Eskel grabbed his swimming trunks and a t-shirt and headed for the door before Geralt could gather his words again.

Geralt watched the door close. He wondered what was going on. If Eskel knew what he was trying to say, why did he look so hurt?

_He just wanted to tell him he loved him._

* * *

What the fuck was Teenie Weenie? Jaskier couldn't stop asking himself. He took to YouTube.

April Fool's day, a few years ago, the band had announced a new single, that being Teenie Weenie. He kept finding reaction videos, but the actual video itself was buried.

Finally he found it. He immediately wished he hadn't.

From the way everyone had talked before, Jaskier knew Eskel wrote the song. He wondered if he had any help from Lambert. And also, if morning wood was to be believed, none of them had this problem. Not a tiny dick in sight, he was confident. _Totally_ hadn't been staring.

In the video, halfway through, Lambert popped up, playing the guitar with a dildo. One that he _recognized_. **It was Keira's**. It really showed how old the song was.

Vesemir looked at him sideways and he took out his earphones (which he absolutely did not steal from Lambert).

"You gonna keep making weird choking noises?" Vesemir asked. _Bad enough I'm hearing them from the other side of the wall._ Damn enhanced hearing.

"Sorry, I'm just listening to Teenie Weenie."

Vesemir made an undignified noise, which Jaskier eventually figured out was a snort. "I'm going to go lounge in the hot tub. You coming?" _**Someone** is, that's for certain. Goddammit boys!_

"Yeah, sounds nice… do you think they'd mind if I wore my t-shirt?"

"No one will care, boy. If they do, I'll break them."

Jaskier hesitated at his duffel bag and Vesemir worried he was hearing Noises. But no. Jaskier's hand lingered on the shirt before letting it go, just grabbing the swim trunks. "You guys all have scars too." He turned and gave Vesemir a blinding smile. "I'm in good company, yeah?"

Vesemir's lip twitched into a smile. "Of course, kid."

Jaskier actually looked a little excited as he left the room with Vesemir-- just in time to miss the helpless noises next door.

* * *

Geralt had a dream of another spring, back in the haze of silence that hung between them, shrouding the years and miles that separated them in sorrow and bitterness.

It was evening, he sat in that room from before, and looked out the opened window at the full, white moon. Cold air filtered in, but Geralt steeled himself to it. The rain carried scents, but none of them were familiar. The din of rain on the roof sounded faraway to him, as if he were trapped in his brain, in a fantasy world.

All he could do was breathe, every movement made him feel heavier and heavier. He could still hear soft laughter, but he couldn't find it in himself to laugh back.

It was too late.

He longed to fall asleep and dream of happier things. Of a world where he could communicate his thoughts and feelings like other people could.

Now, with the growing, all-encompassing sound of rain, even the words that he could summon were drowned out and disappeared.

As he watched, rain turned to snow, sticking to the chilled wet surfaces of the world. If it blanketed the streets, he'd walk outside and look again. Somewhere in the haze of his mistakes, maybe a memory would summon up a truer spring.

One with less mistakes.

The moon was full, but his mind was fuller, overflowing with memories, scattering like photographs at his feet. Images of familiar features, faces full of feelings he put there, the good and bad. Accumulating, rising higher, threatening to bury him, overwhelm him.

Love had kept him young, but now he felt like an old man, withering away. Even his voice was a strained wheeze. He never used it when it counted.

It was too late.

Geralt felt himself get up. The ache in his chest pulsated and writhed under his skin. The words he wanted to say came to mind so easily now, but the din of rain returned, washing away his voice.

The snow still fell, Geralt was confused. He stepped outside and heard the crunch of it under his boots.

Familiar scent, following. Single-minded pursuit. Crunch under boots, clouds of breath marring a clearing sky. Words spilling from sluggish lips, scattering like snow in the breeze.

Tonight. Make it right, say the words.

Tonight.

And at the tree, with the divots of his nails in the bark--

Geralt watched Eskel kiss Jaskier. And felt the weight of his world crumble on top of him.

It's too late. But the words come anyway. Words for both of them. Words that shook him to a ragged and cold core, in a voice that shook even more.

"You are everything to me."

* * *

Eskel saw Jaskier without his shirt and tried not to be weird and stare. He looked nice, comfortable, if a bit shy. There were a couple people swimming in the pool nearby, but only Vesemir and Jaskier occupied the tubs.

No one else seemed inclined to bother Vesemir as he was entirely focused on glaring holes in anyone who so much as looked funny in their direction. That glare felt like throwing knives; Eskel knew from experience.

When Jaskier saw Eskel in his trunks and t-shirt, he smiled real big and bright and Eskel could have died happy knowing that grin was all for him.

"May I?" He asked, feeling his own heart lighten up.

Jaskier nodded emphatically. “Please do, I wanted to talk to you about things.”

“Oh, that sounds foreboding.” He joked, settling down and trying to stifle a wince at the feeling of the chlorine on his aching--

“Not at all, we just never seem to talk enough.” Jaskier laughed. “You’re so smart and talented. I feel like we could talk for years straight and never repeat a conversation.”

Eskel made his bashful face, biting the corner of his lip that touched scars and turning away a bit. He also had no idea how to accept a compliment without joking deflection. “No u.”

Jaskier laughed, and Eskel’s bashfulness multiplied like frantic bunnies.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Eskel asked finally, when his mouth remembered how to make words.

Jaskier slid a little closer. He darted his eyes over to the other hot tub a few feet away, but now that Eskel was here to “protect” Jaskier, Vesemir had put a folded cool towel over his forehead and eyes and laid back. A soft snore already emanated.

He looked at Eskel again and almost whispered to him. “You told me you had something of a theory on drums. I’m intrigued.”

Eskel coughed nervously. “Well. Um. You notice how some songs, when it gets to the last chorus, the drum pattern is completely different, and it changes how everything sounds?”

Jaskier nodded.

“Do you know why that is so effective? This isn’t just about drums, either. It’s about _intensity_.”

“Ooh. Tell me why it’s effective.”

Eskel tried to keep his face schooled, but the way Jaskier was so eagerly hanging off his words, it made him feel so _strange_. He swallowed the butterflies in his throat and spoke. “Everything has a story.” He waited for the words to take root. “Think about it. Like a movie, a book, or even a wrestling match, everything contributes to tell a story. The best ones do it well. Sometimes the storytelling is subtle, sometimes it’s not.” He paused thoughtfully. “But you know what else is like that?”

Jaskier’s eyes glowed. “What?”

Eskel choked on his words, suddenly realizing what he was about to say. He had to look away for a second. “Sex. It’s like sex.”

Jaskier cocked his head. Like a bird. It was adorable. He hummed as he thought on it.

“Let me explain more.” Eskel said, voice lower. Jaskier huddled a bit closer to hear, trying to disguise the shiver that ran down his spine at the change in his voice. “Sex, like any story, has a beginning, middle, and end. Sometimes things are subtle, sometimes they aren’t. But we can all agree that right before the end, there’s a crescendo of some sort.” He grinned.

Jaskier nodded, still thinking hard, head cocked. “So. What you’re telling me… is that songs are a manifestation of sex?”

“Sometimes. The ones that build, that change in the last act, so to speak. They impart a level of urgency, don’t they? Building to that final clash, that final moment where peace begins to push in.”

Jaskier looked mystified, eyes trained on Eskel’s mouth. “You make pretty words.”

Eskel chuckled. “I have inspiring company.”

Jaskier felt something aggressive in his stomach fighting its way up.

Both men looked elsewhere, trying as subtly as possible to regain their breath. And, coincidentally, both men had the exact same thought push through their brains.

_Holy shit, I think I’m really in love again._

And both of them, just the same, felt the warm excitement begin to wage war with the cold feeling of dread, of fear and uncertainty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, um. This chapter was kind of a first for me. I write lots of stuff like this, for fanfiction and for original work... but I've never actually written m/m before, for reasons. I was really feeling it, though, and I feel like I did an okay job. There will probably be more in the future... 
> 
> In other news, upon writing this chapter, the song Whiteness by Diaura, when I went to link it, I learned that they re-recorded it years ago. I gave it a listen, and it was nice... but I prefer the old version. So if you want to check out the other version (it's a little softer, I guess? Idk how to list the differences, I just like how much more rough, emotional, and visceral the original is!), I'll link it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aasl_wEJROs). 
> 
> Unlike Seasons by DIV (the one from a few chapters ago), I don't think I'll be doing a singable English version of Whiteness. I like it, just not nearly as much as Seasons, I guess. Seasons is special lol. If you need the translation, I kind of used it as an outline for that part, but I'll link the translation [here](https://www.jpopasia.com/diaura/lyrics/155654/whiteness/whiteness/), too.


	14. Letting Loose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of marijuana is consumed in this chapter.
> 
> Let's see everyone play it loose. Wink-wink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for: Drug use, of course. Mega-ultra warning for transphobia! Because the instance here is me venting again!! We're finally going to learn about the ex that Jaskier wrote Vitriol for!!!
> 
> oh, and some mild sexual content when Jaskier has a dream that almost turns into a foursome. If that's not your cup of tea, feel free to skip ahead to the next line break when you get squicked. I'm not entirely sure when is best to put a hard disclaimer for that, so reader discretion is probably best.
> 
> 7/29/20 EDIT NOTES: Continuity issues; story has changed throughout writing from how originally imagined. This is a good thing. Will add in extra tidbits for anyone chancing a reread. Enjoy!  
> (by this point I've gone through every chapter. I don't think I'll be changing much in this chapter, if anything. But... the new chapter is coming out today, right after I finish editing this one.)

"These brownies taste funny." Jaskier said, mouth full of brownie.

Lambert looked smug as shit. "That's because they're special."

Eskel groaned. "Why did you replace all of my butter with this shit?"

"Live a little." Lambert shoved a brownie into Eskel's hands. "Also, how else would I get you to make us pot brownies if I don't switch boring old margarine out with amazing THC-infused butter?"

He sighed and tucked into it. "I hate the taste of pot brownies."

Lambert shrugged. "Well the taste is worth it. You're fucking hilarious when you're high. Remember that one song you wrote?"

Geralt looked at his brownie like it would try to bite him.

Jaskier gave him a hopeful look. "You don't have to eat it. It might be nice to see you loosen up a bit, though."

Geralt nodded near imperceptibly. And took a bite. A large bite.

Jaskier took another bite himself. "Glad we don't have to worry about piss tests."

Lambert made a fart noise. With his face. "Even if we did, all we'd have to do is drink a fuckton of pickle juice for a week or so."

Geralt gagged on his brownie. _There's_ that reflex! It's triggered by the wrong kind of pickle.

Eskel and Jaskier laughed, Jaskier patting Geralt ineffectively on the back. Geralt was turning colors now. "You choking?" Jaskier asked.

"I'll do the heimlich, Lambert can do mouth-to-mouth." Eskel said.

Geralt and Lambert both loudly protested. Lambert didn't like being volunteered to help, and Geralt, surprisingly, was more concerned that Eskel would destroy his bones.

Lambert shoved an entire brownie into his mouth and made a show of trying to manage it all at once.

Jaskier squeezed his cheeks together with one hand, making him do a fish face. Brownie tried to escape his mouth. Jaskier made funny noises while squeezing his face, trying to make Lambert laugh.

It worked.

* * *

The gig had gone amazingly, they'd all enjoyed the time at the hotel, and Vesemir said they were going to stop in the Smokey Mountains on the way to Kaer Morhen, so he could do some shopping.

Vesemir liked to plan ahead, so he was going Christmas shopping while the deals were thicker than his wallet. He'd been shopping online from the registry at Smokey Mountain Knifeworks, and had his eye on one for Ciri. Don't tell Yen.

Vesemir ignored the sounds of the boys getting baked from baked goods from his seat at the wheel. The boys, similarly, ignored his long-suffering sighs, if they heard them at all.

Yes, Vesemir had had two brownies. No, it wasn’t unintentional. No, they didn’t know it was him that ate them-- each thought Lambert ate them. _Lambert_ thought Lambert ate them. They were already getting spectacularly drunk in celebration, and so when the edibles kicked in, they'd be nearly unmanageable.

Vesemir was looking forward to doing the same in the next couple days. Getting shitfaced drunk, that is. Totally not talking about getting higher than Willie fucking Nelson. But that was another night's drive away, so a night in the Smokies was necessary.

He _was_ going to rent a cabin, stay a while, but a one bedroom cabin was Too Close Proximity. Vesemir was worried he would come back from a store to find them all piled naked on the One Bed, screaming.

Vesemir wryly remarked to himself that he'd save that for next year, so they could get it all out of their system before they get home. And he'd enjoy some peace and quiet-- which he doubted he'd get much of this winter.

He had plans, after all. Lots of plans.

When Eskel brought up inviting Nikki and Aiden, Vesemir hadn't been sure. But then he remembered what hard workers they were. He needed to repair a fence. Also, yes, they were sweet kids…

When did he end up with so many children?

When Vesemir had reached out, he'd asked Aiden if he could send directions for ring setup. He could get most of the things needed; last time Aiden and Nikki had come to Kaer Morhen, it was with Coen between them. Since Coen died, neither felt like they were welcome back.

Eskel and Vesemir disagreed.

Nikki and Aiden were professional wrestlers. Coen had met them through indie wrestling circuits, and they became inseparable. The year he brought them home, they built a wrestling ring and put on a show, teaching some of the larping buddies how to do some moves.

It had been highly amusing. Vesemir had humored the idea of helping them set up a training facility nearby. Now that he was going to be home year-round, it could be on the table again.

The only reason he hadn't launched the idea back then was because Coen was still in college, unsure if he wanted to finish his degree or pursue wrestling professionally instead of just as a passion. Vesemir was ready to support him either way.

Vesemir was a simple man. He had a ranch, looked like Sam Elliot but meaner, he raised four boys right, and he was the epitome of hard work. He liked country and folk music, and some other old classics. He liked to hunt, fish, and fight.

Wrestling was a natural inclination for him. He was too old to play the game, but not too old to enjoy it or be an influence.

Vesemir had learned long ago that the way to remain somewhere long after departure, was to leave your influence behind. It was engrained in the ranch itself, memories ground-deep that he built with his brothers.

As long as the ranch still stood, his brothers would live on. Vesemir hoped, in his old age, maybe he could build more. See more.

Raising the boys and Ciri was enough, yes. But if he could bring in others, help them, give them what he gave the boys… and it wasn't just about legacy. It was about making something to come home to.

Vesemir would never say as much, but the train of thought started that day in the hotel room, when Jaskier looked at him like he was finally comfortable, finally able to relax in his own skin.

Again, _when_ did he end up with so many children?

* * *

Jaskier was sputtering. The high finally hit, and the four of them were in the very back, crowded together on the bunks. Lambert was hammering on his computer, making a track of some sort. When Jaskier looked, he noted it was some sort of looper and keyboard.

"Guys, guys, guys, guys. Guys." Lambert said. "Guys."

"What, asshole?" Geralt asked, face lax and shoulders shaking with laughter.

"...Guys." Lambert flipped his laptop around. "I wrote a song just now. Can I play it for you? It's my homage to Eskel's funny songs."

"Can I do one next?" Eskel asked.

"Yeah, sure, just lemme do this one."

**_You know what they do in girls only clubs? I wanna know._ **   
**_"We're gonna do some hairigami. Have some... strangely erotic pillow fights._ **   
**_Girls Club!!_ **

**_Girl's Club, I said Girl's Club, Girl's Club!_ **

Lambert looped it to where it kept repeating it. He added a beat, moving like he was possessed. Already everyone (except Geralt) was laughing. When he started adding electronic keys to it, Jaskier ran out of breath and started clapping as he wheezed, like a concussed seal.

And then he stopped, with a smooth splay of notes, improvising, before the loop returned.

**_Boys not allowed, boys not allowed, get the fuck out, boys not allowed..._ **   
**_But I wanna be in it..._ **

There was an uncomfortable silence before he passionately yelled, the looped tune from before returning.

**_I wanna be in that girl's club! I wanna be in that girl club! Gotta be in that girl club!_ **   
**_Yeah, someone let me on into the motherfucking girls club!_ **   
**_I just wanna do my hair. I just wanna do my makeup._ **   
**_I just wanna do my thing-- in the girls club._ **

He started spouting bullshit, but everyone was just startled because he was full-on singing.

**_I'm talking girls club, I'm talking girls club_ **   
**_Won't you let me in? Won't you let me in?_ **   
**_Won't you let me be a part of this thing, baby?_ **   
**_I just wanna come inside the treehouse_ **   
**_I just wanna come inside your treehouse!_ **

**_"You're not allowed, Lambert."_ **   
**_Why? I just wanna be there_ **   
**_"It's a girl's club, Lambert. What's the password?"_ **   
**_...Fidelio?_ **   
**_"No! This is not eyes wide shut, Lambert! Okay? Jesus..."_ **   
**_I just... there aren't a bunch of people having sex in there?_ **   
**_"No! Well... No, it's none of your concern."_ **   
**_So, there are a bunch of people having sex in there?_ **   
**_"Lambert... I need you to stop looking for answers."_ **

**_Oh, they're definitely having sex. Oh, yeah, they're having sex.  
I can tell, I can hear it, yo, they're having sex  
I just know it, I can feel it, yo, they're having sex  
And I..._ **

Now he started making and looping sex noises, some in a comically high pitch. He got way too into it. And then, abruptly:

**_LEMME IN, I'M TRYNA FUCK!  
LEMME IN, I'M TRYNA FUCK!  
LEMME IN, I'M TRYNA FUCK!  
I said lemme in... I said...  
You gotta let me have a little--"_ **

He continued to thrash around like an idiot, throwing his hair around and thrusting his hips, freestyling noises and words. Everyone was just high enough to laugh their asses off through the entire thing.

"Oh my god. Do you know what you reminded me of?" Jaskier gasped, fumbling for the computer.

"What, Juney-duney?"

"That fuckin lemme smash bird."

Eskel wheezed. "Oh fuck, _yes_!"

Geralt cocked his head. "The what?"

Jaskier pulled the video up and they all huddled around him to watch it. Geralt noticed his hand was on Jaskier's thigh when he leaned in to see.

Lambert ran away and returned with a can of Yoohoo and a Pepsi. He held one out to Jaskier. "You want yellow?" He pulled the Yoohoo back. "He doesn't want yellow. BLUE AND YELLOW?" He offered both now.

Jaskier took both, one in each hand.

Lambert's face went from adorable to wicked. "Chug."

Eskel looked from Lambert to Jaskier. "Oh God."

Geralt cocked his head again.

Jaskier maintained eye contact with Lambert. "How much you wanna bet I won't throw up?"

"I bet my entire left ass."

Eskel hiccuped. "How many asses you _got_?"

Jaskier's face went wicked too and Lambert's grin hitched into straight-up bedroom eyes. "What do I get to do to your left ass?"

"Anything you fuckin want, gorgeous." Lambert said. "Except vomit on it, because then you lose."

Jaskier turned to Eskel. "Get the beer stein."

"But!"

"Get it!"

Eskel went to get the giant stein from the little sink. Geralt squeezed Jaskier's knee. "You don't have to do this."

"I _want_ to. I must prove my amazing ability to swallow nasty shit."

Geralt had a horrible idea. He waited in silence.

Eskel returned with the stein, handing it to Geralt to hold while Jaskier cracked open one can and Eskel cracked the other. They each held the cans up, pouring them into the stein at the same time.

Jaskier gagged and sloshed the Yahoo onto Geralt's hand a bit.

Eskel held a butter knife and used it to stir the stein like a goddamn witch's brew.

As soon as Eskel took the knife back, before Jaskier could take the stein away from him, Geralt took the stein and began to chug it as everyone looked on in horror.

Jaskier ran and puked into the sink.

Geralt managed to get to the bottom, held the empty mug up, turned it upside down, wiped his mouth, and locked eyes with Lambert in silent challenge.

Lambert, for some ungodly reason, felt his dick stir at the sight of Geralt licking his lips and looking up at him with that intensity.

"That was fucking disgusting." Geralt snarled.

Jaskier returned sipping from a glass of water.

Lambert turned to Jaskier. "You lost. I'm not even mad."

Eskel hummed. "What was the wager if Jaskier lost?"

They all drew a blank. "Oops." Jaskier grinned.

Lambert laughed and pointed at Geralt. "I don't even care. I just learned that Geralt swallows."

Eskel laughed his ass off.

Geralt turned to Jaskier. "Any chance I could get some water?"

Jaskier offered him his cup. Geralt examined it for puke, found none, and eagerly chugged it.

Lambert handed Eskel his laptop after they sat down. "You gonna sing that song we wrote?"

"Yeah. You mean the one you did an 80s synth style backing track to, and I wrote based on your attitude?"

"That's a longer way of saying _we wrote it_."

"Play it." Geralt said.

"You're looking green. You sure you wanna laugh?" Eskel taunted.

"If you can make me laugh, I'll bet _my_ entire left ass." Geralt said.

Jaskier doubled over laughing before he sat on Geralt's lap and watched the others expectantly as they set up for the song.

**_Eskel: OH MY GOD Stacey! Did I tell you about my date with Steve last week?_ **   
**_Lambert: You went out with Steve?! He’s so cute!!!_ **   
**_Eskel: I know! He took me out to this little restaurant..._ **

Lambert made a big boom noise, and Eskel went right into the chorus.

_**Everybody shut up, I have an erection!** _   
_**It only happens 87 times a day** _   
_**Stop what you’re doing and witness penis perfection** _   
_**This is more important than what you have to say** _   
_**Your story can wait, 'cause I am very erect** _   
_**Now let’s all take a minute to watch my dick and reflect** _   
_**Your spirit's at peace** _   
_**No need to call the police** _   
_**Please hold your applause** _

Geralt was still stone faced. Jaskier was practically having a seizure on his lap. Geralt was almost concerned, but if he paid too much attention, he was afraid he'd laugh too.

**_Defense Attorney (Eskel): In conclusion, your honor, in light of this new evidence, I would propose that the murderer was not my client, but...Mrs. Donovan!_ **   
**_(Courtroom/Lambert gasps!)_ **   
**_Judge (Also Eskel): I will have order in this court!_ **

Another big boom from Lambert, and Eskel started throwing his hips around in a way that screamed "I don't do this, ever!"

**_Everybody shut up, I have an erection!_ **   
**_If Justice is blind, she's gonna miss this display_ **   
**_It’s hard as steel but still evaded metal detection_ **   
**_This is more important than what you have to say_ **   
**_Judge, don't give me that robe, 'cause then nobody could see_ **   
**_This pillar of awesome that's sticking straight out of me_ **   
**_Who could argue a case_ **   
**_With so much dick in your face?_ **   
**_Please hold your applause_ **

Geralt made a weird noise in the back of his throat as Eskel pelvic thrusted around in obvious mockery of Lambert, waving his crotch directly into Jaskier's and Geralt's faces.

**_Do you ever take a moment and look up at the stars_ **   
**_And think about your life and just how stupid you are_ **   
**_If makes you feel better, I'm a fucking rock star_ **   
**_With an amazing penis (Lambert: Penis!)_ **   
**_But enough about you, let's focus more on my crotch_ **   
**_It's as tangy as whisky and hits you harder than scotch_ **   
**_You might not get what I'm saying, so just sit back and watch_ **   
**_Look! (Lambert: Gasp!) It's still my penis!_ **

Hearing Eskel like this was great. Drunk and stoned, he was absolutely loose with his jokes. He straight-up didn't give half of a shit, which made it easier for him to slur his way through a song he wouldn't have dared mention sober.

**_President (Lambert): Ladies and gentlemen, as the President of the United States, I must sometimes make grave decisions. I come to you today to tell you that the United States has decided to declare war on.... (Bwaaaaah!)_ **

**_Shut up! Mr. President, I have an erection!_ **   
**_Here's a tricky dick that can not be impeached_ **   
**_Check out my nutsack, it could swing an election_ **   
**_This is more important than your boring-ass speech_ **   
**_For one nation, indivisible under God_ **   
**_We all stand together and peep my glorious rod_ **   
**_Hey those guys look fun_ **   
**_Oh wait are they holding guns?_ **   
**_Please hold your--_ **

Lambert held up fingerguns and pantomimed shooting Eskel, who dramatically held his crotch as if it'd been shot off, falling against the nearest surface. The bus lurched.

"Calm the calamity that is thine mammaries, boys!" Vesemir croaked from up front.

Jaskier looked back up that way in shock. "Did he just say that?"

"We better calm down or he'll start playing Dolly Parton and Patsy Cline CDs." Lambert shuddered.

"Wait." Geralt said. "Eskel, are you okay?"

He grunted, peeling himself off of what he landed on. "Nnnope." The cabinet's handles had shanked him right in the kidneys. "Agh, fuck."

Jaskier flew to his feet. "He's dying, Geralt, he needs mouth-to-mouth."

Lambert busted out laughing.

Eskel was dazed as Jaskier rushed over to him. "Should I kiss it better?" He asked, looking up at Eskel deviously.

Dumbfounded, Eskel just nodded.

Just as thunderstruck, Geralt and Lambert watched as Jaskier lifted the side of Eskel's shirt, leaned over, and kissed his side.

Eskel _squeaked_.

It was then that everyone realized: Jaskier was the kind of person who, when stoned and drunk, went beyond flirty.

Waaaay beyond.

The entire cabin was thick with the haze of arousal, and the worst part was no one knew who was the worst about it.

But, considering Jaskier was the only person who hadn't been able to crank one out during the hotel stay, he was definitely the main culprit. It was official: "pent-up" was his middle name.

The men looked at each other and then at Jaskier and realized that if he was this inebriated, he needed to sleep some of it off.

Silently, a plan formed, which was difficult for Eskel because Jaskier was _still kissing his sides and back, and his mouth was **so soft,** it was making Eskel have a problem with something **not so soft**._

As if sensing the tension, Jaskier looked to his other admirers and thought _I certainly haven't pushed far enough_. So he peeked out from behind Eskel and giggled maniacally before squeezing Eskel's butt.

Again, Eskel squeaked.

"I love that noise." Jaskier purred, rubbing against Eskel's side as he came around. Like he thought he was a fucking cat.

"I-I-I can make it without being groped, if you want."

 _Me too._ Lambert thought. He and Geralt moved into place, sandwiching Jaskier between all of them and grabbing his arms so he couldn't get grabby again.

Jaskier seemed to think this was either a joke or leading up to being pounded into oblivion, because he went with it Absolutely. Ragdolling into their combined embrace.

Geralt's face was so red he looked like steam would come from every hole in his body if he could only _breathe_.

"Get him on the cot, sit on him." He managed to grunt as they moved him. Jaskier was still laughing and trying to grab anything he could reach.

"I sat on him last time." Geralt said. "Eskel's already had enough."

"I--" Eskel almost protested. "I'm too heavy to sit on him..."

Lambert sighed. "I'll hold down the fort then."

Jaskier didn't allow Lambert to simply sit on him though. Lambert was the smallest of the boys other than Jaskier-- and Jaskier was stronger than he looked. Geralt and Eskel looked on in amusement as Jaskier manhandled Lambert until he was being spooned by a now somehow very sleepy Jaskier.

Lambert was blushing. He pointed up at Geralt and Eskel and mouthed, "shut your fucking mouths."

Jaskier nuzzled his face between Lambert's shoulder blades and pressed a slightly wet kiss to them before immediately passing out.

When Lambert went to extricate himself, Jaskier made an inhumanly high-pitched noise, freezing Lambert in place as Jaskier hugged him closer.

Geralt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He grabbed Lambert's pillow and gently jammed it between Jaskier's face and Lambert's back. Jaskier inhaled deeply and made a happy noise.

As soon as Jaskier's grasp gentled, Eskel and Geralt slowly but firmly rolled Lambert out of Jaskier's grip-- and onto the floor, where his face connected with a nice, satisfying _thwap!_

Geralt sighed in relief, but then Jaskier's hand shot out and grabbed his. "Please don't leave…" Jaskier said so quietly, in a voice so small and pleading. Geralt looked at the others with actual heartbroken puppy dog eyes and, in defeat, sat down at the foot of Jaskier's cot to hold his hand.

Meanwhile, Vesemir's high kicked in and he pulled over because he thought his wolf necklace was growling at him and his hair was crawling.

_What the fuck was in those brownies… and where do I get more?_

* * *

Jaskier's dreams were a mess. Less subtlety this time.

In the dream he was at school, must be a college. He was also clothed for once, but it was a dream; that could change at a moment's notice.

Triss and Valdo were still there, as were Fringilla and Keira. Zoltan sat behind him. And Yennefer.

He felt a sense of Dread.

Apparently the first class was art. That's good. Jaskier liked art.

Eskel was apparently the teacher. Bright, warm smile, fuzzy red sweater barely covering his bulging arms, paint-covered acid-washed jeans sculpting an already perfect ass.

Jaskier was suddenly naked again.

Eskel took off his apron and came to him, all concern and need to help. He wrapped him up in the oversized bit of paint-covered canvas. His hands lingered and Jaskier leaned into him.

Now they were in a different room, alone, and he was kissing Eskel passionately. Eskel couldn't seem to catch his breath; it kept escaping him in helpless little groans.

A knock at the door startled Jaskier. But when Geralt came in, flannel shirt partially unbuttoned to show his neck and clavicles, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, hair up in some hilariously cute manbun that Jaskier yearned to tease him for…

His dreams were giving him too many gifts today.

Riding on Eskel's lap, still kissing him, with Geralt's chest pressed against his back. He could vividly remember how Geralt's mouth would feel against the nape of his neck, the breathy, deep chuckle that said more than he ever did.

That and the erection pressing into his back. Jaskier was having way too much fun grinding against both men's bulges. But it wasn't enough contact. He needed more. Why weren't they naked too?

Well, they sure looked good in those clothes but…

Something was missing.

Instead of knocking on the door, Lambert threw it open. His dress shirt was entirely disheveled, tie mostly open. His belt was undone and his dress slacks hung uncomfortably on his hips. His stubble and exhaustion were clearly pronounced. Hair wild.

Jaskier realized he must have a thing for hot teachers. And Lambert _was_ a very good teacher. Even tousled as fuck, he was striking and--

Lambert came closer, walked around observing what was going on. "Shit, there's not even room for me, is there?" And that made Jaskier want to cry.

The dream had mercy on him, and now Eskel was laying below him, Geralt was behind him, both of them grinding against him, teasing him, and Jaskier was pawing at Lambert's hips, trying to open his pants like his life depended on it.

Once again the door was thrown open, and Valdo ran in with a megaphone. **"Y'all want some music? Here's Wonderwall!"**

_Jaskier woke up seething._

* * *

Geralt was still holding his hand. Eskel and Lambert sat on the floor in front of the cot. They were watching a band performing on Lambert's laptop.

The music didn't sound that bad to Jaskier... but the boys were all tearing into it, with such insults as "smarmy, self-righteous, predictable, and disingenuous." The fact those words came from Geralt was startling.

"Why does his voice make me want to punch him?" Lambert growled. "He sounds like he's just doing this for money and fame."

"Aren't you?" Eskel asked.

"At least I'm sexy and don't paint it up like I'm doing it for the greater good."

Eskel snorted. "Those are good distinctions." He then sighed. "But it's Warped Tour, what do you expect? Kids and teenagers are the main audience, so they have to choose bands they'll enjoy to get them to beg their parents for tickets. If the headliner is a band that preaches about good Christian morals every five minutes, I guess that makes it easier."

The look of disgust on Eskel's face intensified when the lead singer of the band started talking before the next song.

**_When I was growing up, my friends and my family and my teachers... they did not believe in me. And my school counselor pulled me aside and she said "Val, I see no direction, what do you want to do with your life?"  
_ **

**_And I said, "Ma'am, I'm gonna be the Voice of a Generation!"_ **

Jaskier shot up like someone had doused him in ice water. "No fucking way." Jaskier growled. Everyone looked back at him in surprise.

Lambert grinned at him. "Sleep well?"

"Show me that band." Jaskier demanded.

Lambert passed the laptop up to him easily. "Can you believe this shit? He wants to be the voice of a generation? That's hilarious. Those kids are a different world from him. He's just a pretentious asshole, isn't he?"

"You. Have. No. Fucking. Clue." Jaskier ground out, gripping the laptop too hard.

There on stage, preaching like he had never bragged about being an atheist because he thought that made him smarter and more mysterious, was the last person Jaskier would have wanted to see.

Valdo Marx.

"I'd usually say 'fuck it up, Buttercup' but that's my laptop." Lambert reminded him as he saw the pure, undiluted rage seep from every pore in Jaskier's face.

Geralt must have known who it was, but he didn't seem to grasp exactly what it meant. He took the laptop as carefully as he could. But Jaskier saw a video suggestion in the corner.

"What is that." He deadpanned.

Geralt looked and then sighed. "Are you sure you want to watch that?"

"Yes. I'm sure." He felt the bitterness in his tone grow as he read it aloud for the others. By the end it was mocking and clipped. "Novigrad Burns' new singer denounces old band!"

Everyone watched the screen with varying degrees of nervousness and disgust as Valdo said things that made his shitty little speech look a million times better.

"So, you came to Novigrad Burns from a band called Quarter Stream, right?" The interviewer asked. "That's quite a change in pace."

Valdo nodded. "Water to fire, so to speak. In multiple ways."

"Are you going to bring anything of that style of music to your new band? What should we expect?"

Valdo made the douchiest face. "There's nothing about Quarter Stream that's worth translating to metal. Even if it _could_ be done, I wouldn't want to. I came to metal to distance myself from pop and country and folk. It doesn't appeal to me; it never has."

Jaskier roared. "Fucking liar!"

"So if it never appealed to you, what took you so long to come to metal?"

Valdo looked away. "I did it for my ex. She needed me."

"Turn it off." Jaskier said, voice flat, and got off the cot.

That was when it clicked for Geralt, and he shut the laptop. He handed it to Lambert, who looked confused.

Geralt went after Jaskier, who was pacing, raw fury emanating from him like an acrid smell. Geralt hesitated, trying to figure out what he should do.

_Do what you used to do._

Geralt came closer and took Jaskier into his arms. Jaskier resisted for a moment and Geralt expected him to lash out.

But he didn't. After that stiff moment, the energy bled from him and he collapsed into Geralt's arms.

Eskel and Lambert looked on. They were starting to guess what was going on. But they weren't guessing deep enough.

It wasn't enough that Valdo had abandoned him multiple times. It wasn't enough that Valdo had once destroyed his self esteem, and now sought to do it again.

It wasn't enough that he'd inspired Vitriol.

Geralt was pissed, but he kept his hold on the gentle side of firm, pressing a kiss to Jaskier's hair. He didn't speak; nothing he said would be right.

Now it was clear, becoming more clear. Valdo had been there, but not because he wanted to help. He was manipulative, he wanted Jaskier to need him, to want him. And since Valdo was no longer interested in Jaskier since he was transitioning, and perhaps as soon as Triss breathed a word of getting Geralt into the situation…

Valdo had seen his time of being needed was up, and so he extricated himself as painfully as he could, on the hopes it would reach Jaskier and cut deeply, reminding him that he, in Valdo's mind, had done this to himself.

Geralt had taken Jaskier away from him. Now, he figured, he could have him-- Valdo could do better. In every way.

And he'd prove it.

Jaskier was disillusioned. He'd wanted to believe Valdo wasn't that malignant, but he couldn't delude himself into thinking this was impossible. He'd wanted to believe Valdo cared about him, but it was becoming clear even before he left the band that he felt less and less every day.

Since he couldn't undo what Jaskier had done, couldn't browbeat him into being who he was before he met Triss and Geralt, Valdo didn't see Jaskier as a person.

That was fucking hard to swallow, but Jaskier had avoided that bitter pill, thinking Valdo would never lay it bare, how much he hated and resented the very person who should hate and resent him more.

The worst part was that Jaskier couldn't be fucked to hate or resent him right now. He was just tired in a bone-deep way, and he breathed in the smell of Geralt, of olive incense and the ginger root conditioner he soaked his hair in before every show.

And to his horror, for the first time in six years, he cried over Valdo Marx's cruel words.

After a moment, other scents joined as Lambert and Eskel came closer. Geralt must have nodded to them. Jaskier's sobs hit him harder, wracking his body, because now he felt safe.

He felt protected by the knowledge that the people who mattered, here on this bus, knew him for him. Triss did too. Zoltan did. Yennefer did. Ciri did.

And with all of his friends behind him, Valdo could eat Jaskier's fat rainbow cock. He could fucking choke on it with all the gusto he could muster.

"Can we plan a murder?" Lambert asked.

Jaskier began to laugh through his tears.

"You okay?" Eskel chimed, squeezing Jaskier a bit more as he began to hiccup.

"I love all three of you so much." Jaskier said. "But when we get to the ranch, I'm going to work you all to death."

Geralt made his "I don't understand" face.

Jaskier steeled his expression. "We're recording an album this winter, and I don't care whose dick I have to suck, we will headline Warped Tour."

Eskel laughed. "Why?"

Lambert explained their reactions. "Warped Tour isn't really… where our kind of music goes. We're more…"

" _Knotfest._ " Geralt said.

Jaskier looked at Geralt. And he uttered the worst possible question that would destroy everyone in the room:

"Is that a furry convention?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote an angst oneshot based on the song "Sometime Around Midnight" because the idea has been rattling around in my head for a long while now. I formed a series for my witcher oneshots, if anyone wants to check it out. I might include at least one more in the future, so if you want to see it when it pops up, that would be the best way to lol.
> 
> I had the idea to do this twist all along, but only recently did the "is that a furry convention" line occur to me, and it made me snort my sweet tea.
> 
> If anyone wants to know about the "Voice of a Generation" bullshit, here's the piss, sis:
> 
> [Link](https://youtu.be/gpOj0LjwPP0?t=475)


	15. Humor Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eskel gets to showboat a bit more.
> 
> Lambert and Geralt finally talk.
> 
> Vesemir enjoys a shopping spree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I know it's been a long... long time, relatively speaking, since the last chapter. I had a lot of stuff happen, but I'm okay and I'm back now. To make it up to you, the chapter is Hellaciously long, and I went back and edited all the previous chapters a bit, just continuity details, but it had been bothering me.
> 
> Secondly, this chapter was meant to reach a lot further than it did, but I'm having too much fun with some relatively low-brow comedy angles. I'm sorry that the pov switches so frequently, but it was the only way I could adequately communicate when things were happening (and offset writer's block tbh)
> 
> Let's see if anyone picks up on the foreshadowing in this chapter.

It was a different world, back then. Before Yennefer, before he fucked everything up. And yeah, he had no idea just how bad he fucked up before he did it. And he was tired of revisiting the same old what-ifs, but here he was. Here he _always_ was.

He always forgot the very first song he ever wrote was about him. Before he started performing. He had the old-ass acoustic, Steel’s predecessor. Back then, they traveled together under different circumstances.

The very first time he saw those eyes. Jaskier had seemed intent to earn a smile, and Geralt wondered how he found someone so patient, so willing to work for the pathetic excuse for affection Geralt could muster.

Geralt had been making his rounds. All of them did, back then. Clearing out pests and monsters in the few places they were still a problem. Sometimes cities had vampires or succubi. Small towns usually had more problems-- but the odd wraith was still easier to come across than a fiend nowadays.

Good riddance, if you asked Geralt. But, it meant that when he stopped in a town that had no problems, he had to earn enough money to head out again, and so he leveraged his other skills. The last few decades, people who couldn’t pay with money had given lessons, tips. Geralt had become quite accomplished with his hands, and so if he were in a town and there were no monsters to hunt, no pests to exterminate, he automatically switched gears and started asking for mechanical or carpentry work.

Hard Ones weren’t exactly welcome in people’s homes, but Geralt got by fine. Worst case scenario, he pulled a Lambert and would challenge someone to a fight, betting on himself of course.

It was one of those nights. He saw Jaskier, who was having just as bad a day as he was, playing in the local bar. He bombed the performance, and seemed absolutely humiliated. Like he would cry. But when he spied Geralt sitting in the corner, he made his way over and sat down across from him as if they’d known each other forever.

“Don’t mind me, handsome stranger. If someone wants to bother me, you’ll scare them off, won’t you?”

Geralt grunted, mildly amused. Jaskier took several deep breaths before letting the sting of his stage failure slide off him like a suspiciously wet blanket. “You look like adventure. Haven’t seen you around…” He got a good look at Geralt’s glowy yellow eyes and his smile grew. “Ooh, you’re even more handsome than I first thought. Need some accompaniment wherever you’re going?”

Geralt’s amusement faded and he decided to get going. He searched his pocket and found a crumpled bill, not bothering to straighten it out before tossing it to him. “Not looking for company.”

Jaskier took the bill off the table and looked at it, before noticing Geralt was getting away and scrambling after him, bumping into a table hard enough to bruise his hip. “Well, you’ve found company!” He said. “Where are you headed? I’m on my way out of town, too--”

Geralt tuned Jaskier out, and continued to do so for the next month. Well, he made a show of doing so, but with every day, Jaskier wore down Geralt’s prickly defenses. He was tenacious. Geralt got used to the sound of his droning, his lustful escapades, his near-constant flirtatious compliments he refused to acknowledge, and of course, his singing and humming.

When they finally parted ways for that fall and winter, Geralt learned that Jaskier had become something of a pillar in his routine. Without him, it felt like something was wrong. He reassured himself, after all, he had gotten by just fine without him before that, but it was no use.

He had grown attached to this moron. Jaskier.

It only got worse with the years. Jaskier would help him rustle up work, and people were less afraid of him when he was in Jaskier’s company. Who would have known?

And then the dreams had started. Geralt had spent too much time with Jaskier, because when he was away, Geralt found himself hearing patterns in the world that would make a good tune. He found himself drumming a beat on a table one night with his thumbs, a melody torturing his brain. Even if Jaskier had been there, he wouldn’t have been able to convey it-- least of all because he didn’t want Jaskier to know he was having _effects_.

That winter, he took up that old, shitty acoustic. The dreams were worse during the winter. So he started writing. He made sure no one was around; he wasn’t used to singing. He was only just getting back in practice with guitar, hadn’t played in close to twenty years.

By spring, he had the song hammered out. He couldn’t share it, but it was there. It made him feel better, made him feel sane to have an outlet.

Geralt’s dreams weren’t as merciful. He dreamt of finally working up the nerve, ending as just another notch on a belt. Living with the knowledge that he’d sold his heart for a moment that he’d never deserve even if he could have it again. But again, the song hammered it out.

_**Okay** _   
_**The simulation just went bad** _   
_**But you're the best I ever had** _   
_**Like handprints in wet cement** _   
_**You touched me, it's permanent** _

_**In my head, in my head** _   
_**I couldn't hear anything you said, but** _   
_**In my head, in my head** _   
_**I'm callin' you "boyfriend," what the fuck?** _

_**I don't do fake love** _   
_**But I'll take some from you tonight** _   
_**I know I've got to go** _   
_**But I might just miss the flight** _   
_**I can't stay forever, let's play pretend** _   
_**And treat this night like it'll happen again** _   
_**You'll be my bloody valentine tonight** _

_**I'm overstimulated and I'm sad** _   
_**I don't expect you to understand** _   
_**It's nothing less than true romance** _   
_**Or am I just makin' a mess?** _

_**In my head, in my head** _   
_**I'm lyin' naked with you, yeah** _   
_**In my head, in my head** _   
_**I'm ready to die holding your hand** _

_**I don't do fake love** _   
_**But I'll take some from you tonight** _   
_**I know I've got to go** _   
_**But I might just miss the flight** _   
_**I can't stay forever, let's play pretend** _   
_**And treat this night like it'll happen again** _   
_**You'll be my bloody valentine tonight** _

_**I can't hide** _   
_**How I feel about you inside** _   
_**I'd give everything up tonight** _   
_**If I could just have you, be mine** _   
_**Be mine, baby** _   
_**I can't hide** _   
_**How I feel about you inside** _   
_**I'd give everything up tonight** _   
_**If I could just have you, be mine** _   
_**Be mine** _

_**I can't stay forever, let's play pretend** _   
_**And treat this night like it'll happen again** _   
_**You'll be my bloody valentine tonight** _

_**Na-na-na, na-na-na** _   
_**Na-na-na-na-na-na-na Just tonight** _   
_**Na-na-na, na-na-na** _   
_**Na-na-na-na-na-na-na Just tonight** _   
_**Na-na-na, na-na-na** _   
_**Na-na-na-na-na-na-na Just tonight** _   
_**Na-na-na, na-na-na In my head, in my head** _

Geralt kept the song a secret. He revisited it once, after they had their encounter, the memory of Jaskier’s skin still on his lips, the sound of his own name in Jaskier’s cries… And he considered bringing it out, but it was too much.

Jaskier was a freer man than Geralt. He could tell anyone he loved them, he could feel freely, and no one would question it. But Geralt? He didn’t understand how to say those words. They stuck like barbs in his throat, and at the forefront of the reasons for that was the most simple one: Geralt had never heard those words, never said them… And those who had said them suffered for it. Love was another kind of four letter word, and he cursed it with every breath even as it gladly stole his breath away.

Those blue eyes hypnotized him. Geralt told himself it was enough, but he felt insecure. Jaskier wouldn’t just stop being himself because Geralt had buried his feelings into his skin. Geralt knew Jaskier well enough; first town they stopped in, Jaskier would head to a bar and find himself someone whose bed he could warm.

Geralt couldn’t let himself fall any deeper. How much worse could it hurt?

The answer was _much_ worse.

When he came back home after the incident with Yennefer, after having driven Jaskier off, Geralt sat down on his bed in Kaer Morhen. He tossed everything off his end table, including little knick knacks Jaskier had given him over the years.

His eyes settled on that beat up guitar. He took it in his hands, and he remembered every repetition of that song. He bit his cheek hard enough to bleed and held the guitar as gently as he could, and played it one more time.

Halfway into the song, which he couldn’t even sing, the neck snapped under his grasp, the guitar folding in on the pressure. It came out in a torrent then. Geralt flew into a rage, and when he came to, the guitar was in pieces. He stared at it until his breathing slowed and his eyes felt less molten.

To this day, he hadn’t played it again.

But it was hard sometimes. Jaskier still had those eyes, still had that way about him. Not carefree, but something like it that Geralt didn’t have a word for. _Perfect_. That was the closest he could come.

And so, now that the song was in his head again, and the reminders of what it really meant, Geralt started thinking.

This wasn’t about him anymore. It stopped being about him when he went to therapy and figured this shit out. He still wasn’t a saint, but he was a better man, a man who would continue to be better. Not just for Jaskier… but he couldn’t hide the fact that he was a good motivator.

And if he wanted to keep the song in his head as a reminder of the good and bad, why not?

Maybe one day, he’d have the guts to let it not be just in his head.

* * *

Eskel was whistling as he grabbed his drumsticks. He hitched his eyebrows at Jaskier. “Wanna come along?”

“Where you going?”

“Busking. We’re in the Smokies! Gonna eat a fancy hotdog and beat the shit out of a barrel for fun.”

Jaskier laughed. “I’m not gonna turn you down.”

“Bring the mandolin if you want, kick up a tune.”

Jaskier shrugged. “Used to do it for a while, back when Triss and I were on the streets. Think I’d rather just watch you play.” It wasn't _all_ they did, but he wasn't ready to talk about the Prancing Pony yet.

“Suit yourself.” Eskel said. “Thought you could help take some of the attention away from me. Pretty face is easier to look at.”

“Much as I love a good compliment, Eskel, I’m offended. You.” Jaskier sauntered up to Eskel and reached up with both hands, gently smacking them over either cheek. “Are _stunning_ , and I’ll hear no arguments.”

Eskel couldn’t turn away to hide his bashful face, one side of his mouth turned up like he was biting it.

Jaskier had mercy on him. “But, you already know I always find a way to get attention.”

Jaskier jolted as he realized how close and intimate he was being, remembered the dream he had where he had effectively made out with and ground up against Eskel… not to mention squeezing his ass and kissing his back and sides-- which _had actually happened!_

Jaskier’s voice hitched a bit. “You lead the way!”

* * *

Geralt had been stuck in his head. He watched Eskel and Jaskier leave to pick through the Smokies. He’d go out shopping later, too. There were things he’d like to pick up while they were here… but in the meantime, since he was alone with Lambert, he had some things to get out of the way.

Lambert stared up at him, chewing noisily just because he knew it pissed Geralt off. He was eating Jaskier’s coffee beans.

“You just gonna stare at me, or are you going to say something?” Lambert deadpanned, putting the bag of coffee beans back down and sealing them, which was usually an un-Lambert-like thing. He swallowed the beans with a grimace and began working his jaws with messy mouth noises. “Shit got inside my tongue-hole, that was a horrible idea.”

Geralt huffed a laugh and sat down across from him. “Serves you right eating all his snacks.”

“He’s always cramming them, I was curious. He didn’t say I couldn’t.”

Geralt hitched an eyebrow but didn’t say anything else.

Lambert cleared his throat. “What the fuck do you _want_ , Geralt?”

Geralt made a face. An unpleasant face. The silence stretched as Lambert waited, his patience running thin-- but he was enjoying this a bit. _Let him squirm. He needed to figure out how to use his words to do something other than make people who care for him feel like shit._

“I shouldn’t have gotten upset. It wasn’t my place.” He said.

“Is that the closest I’m getting to an apology?” Lambert asked.

“Yes.”

Lambert nodded and got up. “Good talk, then.”

Geralt’s hand shot out and grabbed Lambert’s wrist. “I… I’m glad the two of you get along.” He said. Lambert looked down at him like he was trying to preach Jesus to him in a whorehouse. But he didn’t pull away. “I like seeing him happy. Seeing _you_ happy.” Geralt paused again. Lambert clutched the fraying thread of his patience a bit tighter.

“Just spit it out.” He finally sighed.

“There’s a lot you and him have in common.” Geralt sighed. “Things I can’t… bring up to him, things I can’t help him through. But you could.”

“Is this really something you should be telling me, or should I ask him myself?” Lambert was suddenly a bit more willing to sit down and talk again.

“I can show you a couple songs. You can probably draw most of it from those.”

“I have to listen to his folksy shit?” Lambert rolled his eyes… and then a small smile twitched the corner of his mouth before he chewed it back into his default stoic asshole face. “Which ones?”

Geralt motioned to Lambert’s laptop, and the two set off for an adventure of Jaskier’s most private songs.

Starting with Vitriol.

* * *

Eskel was a fucking god.

Jaskier already knew this, but seeing him do his thing was still breathtaking. He pulled out his phone and started filming it. The wind was whipping, so the sound quality wasn’t good enough for his liking.

It got worse when the afternoon sun beat down on him and Eskel paused to take his shirt off, lost in the joy of this exercise. Jaskier procured a water bottle, and Eskel drank heartily from it, still drumming a beat with one hand since Jaskier was nice enough to remove the cap for him.

After Eskel had drunk enough water, he dumped the rest of it on himself, shaking his head to whip some of it back and out of his face-- which he immediately remembered he didn’t want to do, so he flipped it all back over his face, making him look like the creature from the Grudge, but Larger and with dusky skin.

Eskel had set a sign up in front of his bucket he was drumming on, written in thick black marker. It implored for onlookers to donate to a charity or fundraiser Jaskier didn’t actually recognize. When he pulled it up on his phone, he realized it was a non-profit organization that helped Hard Ones find homes outside the System, and also offered therapy to those who had grown up inside the System.

Eskel didn’t want the focus on him; he wanted it on anything else. The music, the fundraiser, _anything_ but him.

Jaskier stared in awe as Eskel finished his set and looked up. There were a few people watching and Jaskier led them into clapping with him, but Eskel only looked at Jaskier, and he smiled through the curtain of his hair.

“Wanna see what I can do with more stuff to beat?” Eskel asked as he got up to stretch.

“Fuck, yes!” Jaskier said, and watched as Eskel took the one he’d been sitting on and un-nested it to reveal there was another one. When he shook the last one, abused cymbals from an older drum kit, and a couple of nested saucepans fell out. It made a nice little racket, and Eskel flinched. He hastily set up.

“Wait. Eskel. What are you going to sit on?” Jaskier asked.

Eskel motioned to a rather sturdy wall.

“You… are you implying you’re going to do a wall-squat while you do an entire set?”

He shrugged. “Need the exercise.”

Jaskier gaped at him as he continued to set up. “You are going to destroy your back and legs.”

Eskel shook his head. “Just means I’ll sleep better tonight. You forget.” He looked up at Jaskier as he settled back against the wall. “You forget what would be injurious to a human is nothing more than a muscle cramp to us. It comes with the territory. Monsters don’t come into the cities, so this is the closest I get to battle for the larger part of the year.”

Something about that statement felt like it needed to be unpacked, but Eskel shook his hair back into his face and set into his zone, and Jaskier decided to ask him about it later as he let himself be wowed.

Eskel rarely showboated, but when he did, he certainly made it good. He set the main bucket up with the handle under his foot, his foot controlling how flat to the ground it was, so he could balance against the wall. In those cargo shorts, Jaskier could see Eskel’s calves already straining, the muscles like rocks.

When he started playing his new set, Jaskier settled in for the long haul. Eskel occasionally stopped to joke with the crowd, his hair still a curtain over his scars. The scattered laughs made him glow.

He was gorgeous. When he finally whipped his hair back, eyes closed and face upturned as he got into it and suffered the burn in his legs and back, Jaskier never took his eyes off him. He felt himself drift back to that dream, of sitting astride Eskel’s lap and desperately trying to devour each other.

_Control yourself._

When Eskel got done, he stood up, only flinching at the cramps for a moment before the applause from the crowd baffled him. He scanned the faces before settling back on Jaskier’s. His smile lit him up, and Jaskier felt his own smile grow. As Eskel approached, looming over Jaskier and looking down, Jaskier’s stomach felt weird, like it did before a big performance.

“There’s a good ice cream place down the road. Let me treat you.” Eskel’s voice was almost seductive.

 _You could literally ask me to kill for you._ “Ice cream sounds good.”

* * *

Vesemir was the king of multitasking, no one could convince him otherwise. He held his phone with his shoulder, talking into it Way Too Loudly, as he waltzed through the knife shop as if he were a breath away from Skipping.

“So I need two-by-fours… what else?”

“I’ll bring the ropes and posts. Shouldn’t be a problem. Get some light tubes, too. You still got some barbed wire?”

“None that isn’t rusted up.”

“Get some, then, I wanna play rough this time.” Aiden sounded almost cruel.

Vesemir cackled. “So how is everything going? Aside from this.”

“Work is work, you know. Wrestling is a lot more fun than just doing the Path. Still traveling, still staying in shape, still beating the shit out of things. But, I have kickass music behind me! I still think you should have been a wrestler, old man.”

“How’s Nikki?”

Aiden went quiet for a moment. “She’s good, too. She won the women’s championship, even.”

“That’s fantastic. Do you have pictures?”

“I’ll send them after we get off the phone.”

“Is something wrong, though?”

“Agh… No, it’s… it might be easier to talk about once we’re there.”

“Now I’m worrying.”

“You always worry.”

“Wouldn’t have to if you just called sometimes.”

Aiden laughed. “Remember the first time I came down there? You didn’t even trust me, let alone like me. Getting soft.”

“Shaddup.” He paused, throwing a knife into his basket. “I’m shopping for knives.”

“Ooh.” Aiden hummed thoughtfully. “Who’s the lucky girl?”

Vesemir rolled his eyes. “My granddaughter, dumbass.”

“Funny name for a granddaughter.”

“I will hang up this phone.”

“So it’s for Ciri.” Aiden rushed to say. “Just the one knife?”

“Well, doing some early holiday shopping. That boy Geralt has been chasing for years now is with us, and I wanted to get him something nice. This place has good knives, but I can’t find any in silver that will fit his fancy.”

“Okay, back up, Geralt chases boys? Thought he was with that goth chick.”

“Not for a few years now. _All_ the boys are after this one. It’s really starting to irritate me, because they don’t seem to understand that…”

“So… it’s a love square. And you want to make it a circle?” Aiden asked.

“The fuck does that mean?” Vesemir threw another knife into the basket.

A clearance rack appeared, and he gravitated toward it, pupils blown wide and now _less than_ a breath away from skipping.

“Are you galloping? Why are you breathing like that?”

“ _There’s a sale_.”

Aiden laughed. “Okay, I’m gonna get off here. If we’re gonna make it down there in time to meet you, we have to pack up the car today. We’ll take turns driving so we can get there by sunset tomorrow.”

“Drive safe.”

“Sure, dad.” Aiden hung up.

 _Was that sarcasm?_ Vesemir pocketed the phone. He noticed a woman staring at him weird, and he clicked his teeth at her. She didn't have to know they were mostly fake. She walked away hurriedly and he turned to the glorious clearance rack.

"Oh, _yeah_." Vesemir rustled through boxes, whistling _hello my baby, hello my honey, hello my ragtime gal!_

* * *

Lambert was making a playlist while he was listening to Jaskier's old songs.

"So you'll help me?"

"Not helping you. Helping him."

Geralt sighed. Lambert looked up at him, face creased with irritation.

"I'm fucking sorry, okay?" He growled.

"I'm not looking for words, I'm looking for actions." Lambert paused the music, put his headphones down, and got up. "You've always been shit at words, but your body is honest."

Geralt nodded and got up. Lambert grabbed his shoulder to force him to look him in the eye. "I should fucking punch you in the dick for implying what I did was a joke." He smiled dangerously. "I still might." He was close. Too close. "But if you wanna see what a joke kiss is like, I can humor you."

Geralt pushed Lambert away. "Was that a pun?"

"Does it turn you on, jackass?"

Geralt sighed and combed his hair back with his hand. "No. I just don't like being played with." From the scent, Lambert knew one of those things was a lie.

Lambert's grip was on his shoulder again. Tighter, now. "Unlike you, I _don't_ play around."

Geralt stared hard into Lambert's eyes, waiting.

Lambert was closer than before. Geralt could feel the friction of almost contact on his lips.

And then Lambert socked him in the stomach with his free hand. Geralt let out an unflattering noise, and their faces crashed together. Lambert pulled back, looking satisfied. " _That_. Was a joke kiss."

Geralt held his stomach and was wheezing. "You fucking prick."

"Apology accepted. Now fuck off, I'm busy."

Geralt watched Lambert sit back down. He let his breathing return to normal now that he caught his breath from having it punched out of him.

He stumbled his way off the bus not long afterward. He considered texting Eskel or Jaskier, but then he remembered he didn't have a fucking phone.

_Time to shop._

* * *

Ice cream in hand, Eskel led Jaskier through the streets of downtown. There were little shops everywhere, and Jaskier was excited to browse through many of them.

"Fringilla was very generous. Apparently, the Livestream pissed her off so much, especially on the fifteenth repetition, that Keira broke the lease to go live with some dude." Jaskier fanned the money out and made a show of fanning Eskel. The bills were still crisp, so it actually worked.

They came to a shut down merry-go-round. Jaskier paused and looked at it. "Why isn't it going?"

Eskel shrugged and took a bite of the waffle cone. "I think they do maintenance on it next month. It never runs when we come through in the fall. For all I know, it never does."

Jaskier had a mischievous look on his face. He shoved the last of his cone into his mouth and swung under the chain.

"Jaskier, no."

"Jaskier, _yes_!" He contested, frolicking up onto the dais. He wrapped his hand around one of the poles to steady himself as he swung around and immediately had a flashback to the Prancing Pony.

 _Maybe don't do that._ He thought, but then he shot a look at Eskel, who had ducked under the chain and was now filming him on his phone.

Jaskier grinned. _Maybe I should. Later_.

Jaskier approached Eskel. "What is it, stud muffin?"

Eskel's voice cracked when he registered the pet name. "I had a brilliant idea for Black Waltz."

"Oh?"

"Come with me and I'll bounce it off you."

Jaskier's grin grew. "Yes, sir."

* * *

Later that night, everyone settled in for a dinner. Eskel's idea had been spectacular, but to really pull it off, Jaskier was going to have to ask a couple favors.

Perhaps from less appreciable places. Perhaps without revealing the context for his acquaintance with them.

He hoped Fringilla would be discreet.

_He was wrong to have hoped._

Fringilla called in the middle of dinner, and Jaskier fumbled for his phone. He tried to jump up to take the call in private but Eskel was practically pinning him to the wall in this booth, and a well timed stampede of people in no hurry to leave stood there.

He was trapped. He could only hope she wouldn't say anything damning.

Once again, _he was wrong to have hoped._

"Quit calling my club the Prancing Pony. I didn't suck dick to have it remembered as a shit-rate strip club. It's called The Lodge now! As for if any of them will be willing to help out, I'm not sure."

Jaskier sputtered.

Fringilla mercilessly continued. "I _can_ cut you a deal, however. If you can come in and strip for us again, one more time, I'll round up everyone you could ever hope for."

_I only **hope** the others didn't hear any of that._

Jaskier looked up briefly and caught Lambert's gobsmacked expression and remembered _oh, yeah. They can hear a cat fart from a mile away._

“Can I call you back?” Jaskier’s mouth was dry.

“Yeah, think on it and call me back. Bonus points if you can get Triss to show up sometime. You guys made a good team.”

_Why haven’t I hung up on you? Why the fuck did I answer the phone?_

“Yeah, cool, bye.” his hands were shaking so hard that it took more than one attempt to end the call. The screen would come on, and he’d try to hit the button, but the shaking would make the phone go dark again and on the third attempt, Fringilla finally hung up and he just sat there with a phone in his hand.

Everyone at the table was looking at the phone.

Jaskier took a deep breath and put it down on the table with a noticeable sound. He sat on his hands and faked a smile. “So, appetizers?”

Vesemir cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. He looked at each of the boys, a stern look. Everyone returned the look and then shifted as well. “Appetizers.”

“I want cheese dicks.” Lambert said.

Jaskier tried really hard not to laugh but he was bordering on hysterics and he realized _oh, no, I can’t ignore this._

The throng of people next to the table who _still hadn’t moved_ were talking to their cousin’s husband’s dog’s cat’s grandmother about some stupid shit that didn’t matter. Geralt looked at Vesemir and grunted, nodding toward the people.

Vesemir’s lip turned up in a sneer and he rounded around, face to face with some guy’s ass. “Excuse me.”

The man’s ass thankfully did not respond.

Vesemir pushed his chair back, and the man stumbled. He rounded. Vesemir was ready. “Sir, you’re in the way. If you want to have a goddamn family reunion, it would be much less rude to do it _anywhere_ else.”

The little gathering went quiet and looked at Vesemir, but then Geralt stood up, tiredly, next to him. The gathering looked at the table, saw one comparatively skinny, shivering little twink in a booth with Two More buff, pissed Hard Ones, and collectively understood they were being rude and this was not the hill they wanted to die on.

And they _would die._ Vesemir’s face made that apparent.

Vesemir sighed in the most long-suffering way. “Up, Eskel. Give the boy some breathing room.”

Jaskier got up. Vesemir stood there and looked at him. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

“Go?”

Vesemir walked, and Jaskier followed him. Eskel sat back down, and the boys just stared at their menu.

Lambert looked at his menu. “Still want those cheese dicks.”

Eskel snorted.

* * *

Zoltan was having the worst time of his life. His stomach felt like it was going to explode, and he was due to facetime Triss in three minutes.

He needed a bathroom, and he needed it _now_. Reminded him of that commercial for [JG Wentworth](https://youtu.be/FbQt8pYUY6Q?list=TLPQMjgwNzIwMjB4L02YceNbMg). Only instead of cash, it was impending shit.

He walked as quickly as his legs would carry him, trying to avoid attention. Luckily, everyone in this restaurant was talking loudly to someone. He made his way into the bathroom and locked himself in the big stall. He needed the bar to hold onto for support, he figured.

He hopped onto the throne, and right as he was about to let loose--

* * *

The men’s bathroom was cleaner than Jaskier had expected. Vesemir steered him to the sink. “Splash some water on your face, organize your head.”

Jaskier opened his mouth, shut it again.

“It’s been months, kid. You should know by now if you don’t want to talk about something, we’re not gonna pressure you.”

Jaskier did as Vesemir said. The water was cold. “Right. Yeah. That’s not the problem.”

“What is it, then?”

Jaskier felt like beating his head against the counter. He sighed heavily. “I just… don’t want you guys to think less of me?”

Vesemir made a disparaging noise. “We’ve all had to do some unsavory things over our lives. We might be shocked by whatever it is you’ve done, but you underestimate just how long we’ve lived, how much we’ve seen. And how few fucks we really give about human perception of propriety.”

Jaskier blinked at Vesemir. “Have you always used such… choice words?”

Vesemir grunted. “Been alive long enough. Despite what you might think, I haven’t been alone and living in a cave for the last four hundred years.”

Jaskier’s eyes blew wide. “Wait. What? Four hundre--”

Vesemir left the bathroom. Jaskier stared after him.

_That crafty bastard. He distracted me from my anxiety._

The words were effective, though. If there were any people alive who would always respect him, he could trust them to prove their steadfast acceptance time and time again.

This thought was punctuated by a man in the bigger stall behind him, quiet until now, making a sound that was both terrifying and painful, as if his entrails were summoning Cthulhu from his ass.

Jaskier ran out of the rest room.

* * *

"So." Jaskier started.

"So." Eskel prompted, after a full minute of silence.

Jaskier took a deep breath. "So."

Lambert huffed a laugh. Geralt kicked him under the table.

Vesemir was silent, looking off into the middle distance with his cup of whiskey held against his stomach.

Jaskier swallowed his hesitation. "When me and Triss were homeless, and we finally got off the streets, while we were couch surfing… Fringilla called her up and asked if she wanted to make easy money. Triss dragged me along."

The pause was heavy, and when Jaskier began the next statement with a very drawn out "so", at least one other person bit off a groan.

Jaskier had insisted on explaining, after all. They were just along for the bumpy, bumpy ride.

“I ended up in a special trio. Me, Triss… and Keira.” He paused.

Lambert’s face went slack.

“Keira was called Bubbles. Triss was called Blossom. And I--”

“Buttercup.” Lambert breathed. “Oh, my fucking god I’m so sorry.”

Jaskier laughed. “If it bothered me, I would have told you.” He paused. “But, honestly, if anyone but you said it, I’d probably make them the king of backward knees via dropkick.”

Eskel raised his hand. Jaskier nodded to him. “Uhm. So you… were a stripper? Is that it?”

_Is that it?_

Jaskier almost went into hysterics right then. “Oh, my fuck. I love you. But, yeah, I was a pretty good pole dancer. That more or less is it. Once Triss and I saved enough money to get a place and a car, I looked for another job. I was doing streams at the same time, so I only really needed a part time job. I was lucky it took off so well.”

“Did doing that… make you feel badly?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier shrugged. “It was a stage persona. I was in a dark place around that time, so… I mean, yeah, it might have been something akin to self-harm, honestly. Never really dwelled on it before. But, I mean… Money is money. Needed that. Needed stability. And it honestly was less demeaning than fast food, let’s be real.”

He looked thoughtful, but he still didn’t meet anyone’s eyes. “I mean, the name Dandelion kind of is a spin off of Buttercup. Jaskier is also synonymous, yeah?” He huffed. “A weed by any other name would still… how would you finish that phrase?”

Eskel shook his head. “Dandelions aren’t just weeds.”

“Could have fooled me.”

Eskel sighed. “Way back when our world was still whole, before man drove the elves from their lands, dandelions were an _herb_.”

Geralt grunted. “Still are. Technically. I’m quite partial to dandelion root tea.”

Eskel nodded, going on. “It’s good for general wellness, boosts your immune system. All you have to do is take the root, put it--”

“Really, you’re going into recipe territory?” Lambert rolled his eyes.

“No, no, I’m actually kind of fascinated!” Jaskier said, motioning for Lambert to shut up.

Eskel licked his lips, and Geralt got up to go rummage around, see if he still had any tea. “Ah… the root? And you put it on a baking sheet, dry it out a bit. I like to put it with ginger root for energy, sweeten it with honey.”

Jaskier blinked at Eskel. “Oh, my god. How much herblore do you know?”

Lambert gave him a wry look. “We kill monsters, Junebug, you know that. We all know this shit, Eskel's just a nerd.”

“I never really thought about it! I can count on one hand how many monsters Geralt killed--”

“You misremember. Unless you have more than three dozen fingers on one hand.” Geralt said, grabbing two mugs.

“Oh, my god, _really_? I just thought you’d been working on cars, and you were covered in grease!”

“Blood, grease. Same thing, different beasts.” Geralt retorted. “Eskel, where’s the coffee machine, I need hot water for tea.”

Eskel scrambled to go get the coffee machine from wherever it was stored. Or being used for. Now that Jaskier thought about it, Eskel was experimenting with weird mixtures in it, some mornings. He just figured Eskel liked particularly thick and potent coffee and didn’t want it to make Jaskier’s heart explode.

He quite literally felt like it would explode enough as it was, after all.

Lambert waited until the other two were arguing over mugs, and then leaned in. “Junebug--”

“I’m not upset, Lambsteak.”

“I know…” He bit his lip. “I… Aw, fuck, I can’t ask that.”

Jaskier blinked owlishly at him. A smile lit on his face. “Ask _what_?”

Lambert made double sure that Eskel and Geralt were too preoccupied to hear him. “I… want to know how to do it.”

“What? Strip?”

Lambert shook his head. It was something in his eyes, a heat that pierced Jaskier through. But he couldn’t say the words.

_I want to pole dance._

Jaskier figured it out, and nodded, his grin turning into a smirk. “Maybe sometime this winter, I can teach you.”

“Will it upset you?”

“I don’t think so. You’re not… that. You know me, and you won’t…”

“I’ll teach you anything you want to know in return.”

Jaskier smiled. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I bet you will.” Lambert wiggled his eyebrows as Geralt finally returned with Three mugs of tea. “Fucker, where’s mine?”

“You didn’t speak up. Make your own.”

Jaskier held his cup close, enjoying the warmth of it. Geralt collected weird coffee mugs, and this one said **Be Gay, Do Crime** on it. Jaskier was in love with it. Eskel’s looked like a panda bear. Geralt’s looked like a skull with coins in its eye sockets. Lambert, grumbling under his breath, came back with one that looked like a black cat, with its own special matching spoon. He was viciously stirring in way too much sugar.

Jaskier sighed. “So I’m not a weed.”

“Even if you were, you’re not my favorite weed.” Lambert snarked.

“That hurts.”

“Okay, you’re my favorite.”

“No, no take backsies!”

Geralt grunted. “What is she even offering, anyway?”

Jaskier glanced at Eskel, as if to say “help me out, dude” but Eskel was also intent on an answer. Jaskier leaned back in the seat, sighed, and took a sip of the tea.

“Eskel and I were hashing out some ideas about Black Waltz. We wanted to do a music video.”

Eskel jumped in here. “Because the song itself is very lighthearted, despite its dark undertones, I wanted to emphasize the sense of wonder and acceptance of the unknown. Of the strange.”

Jaskier bit his lip. “So… we were going to do this… by… filming it with carnival elements… and having something of a freak show.”

Geralt recoiled slightly. “Freak show.”

“Yeah.” Jaskier said.

“It was my idea.” Eskel said. “Think about it, Geralt. When we traveled around, we were treated like a sideshow. We haven’t changed, the only thing different is the public perception of us. That was only possible because we joined a subculture that focuses on being an outcast, on being different.”

“Focuses on being angsty and edgy as shit, too.” Lambert bit.

“Thank you for your input, Shadow the Hedgehog.” Eskel retorted. “When I communicated these ideas to Jaskier, he said he knew a guy who knows a guy.” He gave Jaskier a wry look. “You could have told me you would be facing potential discomfort. We all have plenty of friends who do strange things that could fit this theme.”

“Really?”

Geralt huffed. “Zoltan, for sure. Yen has… some strange talents.”

“T.M.I. Geralt.”

“Aiden for sure will be helpful, I’m pretty sure he and Nikki have some special tricks.” Eskel provided.

Lambert stiffened. “They coming down this winter?”

“Yup. I saw to it.”

Lambert nodded. “It’ll be good to see them.”

Jaskier sighed. “Well. Honestly, That should do it. Unless I can convince Triss to come in for a performance. Need a favor from her, anyway. Maybe Yen could portal her over?”

Geralt grunted in agreement.

Lambert set his cup down a bit harder than he should have. “That reminds me, I’ve actually been working on a mockup of the song. You guys should listen to it tonight, tell me what you like and what you don’t. I vote it’s the first thing we work on when we get to Kaer Morhen.”

“How are we going to get access to that carousel?” Jaskier asked. “For filming purposes.”

Vesemir finally snapped out of whatever trance he was in. “Leave that to me. Won’t be too hard.”  
“You need a nap.” Jaskier said.

“I need… a burrito.” He responded sluggishly.

Jaskier glanced to Geralt. “How much whiskey has he drunk?”

Geralt counted on his fingers, got to four, and then, “About sixteen shots.”

Lambert grumbled. “Where the fuck has he been hiding it? Stingy old fuck.”

Eskel got up with his tea. “I’ll drive. Sure there’s a taco joint that’s still open around now.”

Vesemir threw back the last of his drink and set the glass down on the counter. “Headstart.” He said, mustache twitching into a smile.

Jaskier bit his cheek to keep from laughing. And then the bus lurched. Geralt got up. “Eskel, no.”

“I can drive, Geralt!”

“Yeah, if you want all my mugs to fly out of the cabinet.”

Lambert got up. “I can drive!”

“You don’t even have a license.” Geralt refuted.

“I… know _how_ to drive!” He tried again.

“Over my dead body.” Vesemir growled.

“That can be arranged, if Eskel’s driving!” Lambert said.

Jaskier sighed and went to the seat. “It’s my job, let me do it.”

Eskel got up-- without putting the bus in park. Jaskier scrambled into the seat and mashed the brakes. “Eskel, are _you_ drunk?”

“No?” He tilted his head. “I don’t know how to drive stick.”

Jaskier looked at the gear shift. “This… this is an automatic.”

Eskel shrugged.

 _You mean to tell me the smartest man I’ve ever met has no idea how to operate a vehicle._ Jaskier realized his cheek was bleeding from how hard he was biting it.

“How the fuck did you get a license?” He asked.

Eskel shrugged. “I’m not that bad at driving, I swear.”

“He drives my motorcycle more than anything.” Geralt said.

“Thought you couldn’t drive a stick? That’s basically a stick!”

Eskel huffed. “Geralt taught me…”

“I sat behind him and showed him what to do with everything.” Geralt explained. “Can’t sit behind him the same way in a car. Or bus.”

 _Eskel… likes to sit in Geralt’s lap. That’s what message I’m getting here._ Jaskier looked up at both of them, who were pointedly looking in different directions so as not to meet anyone else’s eyes, including Jaskier’s. _Honestly, though… same._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... we're still not in Kaer Morhen yet. But we will get to that next chapter. Sort of. You'll see. I'm excited to write it, so with any luck it'll come soon.


	16. The Obligatory Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier almost dies.
> 
> Jaskier almost dies again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was not in the original, first format of the story, but when I thought about it as an idea, i had to do it. In the process of writing it, however...
> 
> Well, you'll see.

This was the worst. Jaskier would know; he'd seen Lambert and Vesemir engage in a drinking contest before and had to help clean vomit out of both of their hair. When Lambert was leaning over the toilet, he finally stopped vomiting long enough to flush the toilet, but then immediately started up again.

"This is the third time, Lambert, what the fuck?"

" _The spinning water is making me dizzy_!" He whined.

 _Oh my fuck._ "Then close your eyes." He held Lambert's already fucked hair out of the way, but now he needed to drop it for a second. He went for the sink and wet some paper towels to put on the back of his neck. Or over his eyes. That was probably the better option.

"I didn't even _eat_ that!" Vesemir slurred from the next stall.

Yeah, _THIS was worse than that!_

"Jaskier, you're exaggerating, it's not that bad." Lambert said, as Eskel efficiently helped him buckle his armor on.

"All I know is that the bus is smoking, won't start, and you guys are-- I didn't even know you _had_ swords here, on the bus!" _Or the armor, for that matter, but… if I’d known you did, I might have asked you to wear it on stage, because hot damn if it isn’t a striking visage!_

Vesemir was already suited up, and he tossed Geralt and Eskel's swords to them. They caught them effortlessly, though Lambert's proximity to Eskel made Jaskier flinch. Eskel, the saint he was, caught it by the scabbard so Lambert got by without being struck in the head.

"We won't be long." Geralt assured. "Three hour trek there, we can make good time."

" _Three hours?_ It's going to rain, Geralt, none of us should be walking in the rain!"

Vesemir spoke up then, hand on Jaskier's shoulder. "We're staying here."

"What the fuck do you mean?" Jaskier raged, turning to him. "You're going to make them go alone?"

"Three fully-kitted Hard Ones won't have much problem. Considering one of them will be lugging a toolkit and the other two will be grappling heavy replacement parts, I can't make any of them stay."

"Why are _we_ staying, Vesemir?"

Eskel chimed in. "It's going to be raining. Kaer Morhen is a lot more rural than where you've been before. In fact, it's still mostly wilderness."

"And?"

Lambert huffed. "You'd slow us down, Junebug."

Jaskier made an affronted noise. "I'll have you know I used to run track!"

Geralt spoke up now. "When we get attacked, we would be too worried about you to focus on the task at hand." _When, not if_.

Jaskier watched each of them in the ensuing silence. The only sound was the clip of buckles being fiddled with.

"So if you're so scared for my sake, why leave me on the bus? What if it gets attacked?"

"That's why I'm staying with you." Vesemir replied. "If it's something pedestrian, I'll throw you on top of the bus while I fight them off. If it's a flying creature, I'll lock you in. Not even a royal wyvern can pick this bus up."

"Okay, what about worst case scenario?" Jaskier said. The phrase _royal wyvern_ might have scared him a bit. He'd heard of those, seen the scars they leave-- he'd done the research in the desire to woo Geralt back in the days. "Say something gets close enough to me for us to worry?"

The others had subtly paused their equipping to listen to his response. Well, perhaps not that subtly.

Vesemir sighed and looked thoroughly upset for a moment. "Stay here." He growled.

Jaskier stood there awkwardly, didn't know what to do with his hands, so he went between all three boys and started testing the buckles to make sure they wouldn't chafe.

"We're fine, Jas, I promise." Eskel said.

Jaskier fixed him with a firm glare. "If I find one scratch on you, I'm going to kiss it better until someone pulls me off you."

"That was an odd threat." Eskel said, face pulling together as he tried not to show how much that idea made him blush.

"Don't test me." He winked.

"I'll try not to." He responded weakly.

Jaskier moved on to Lambert. "I'll get in the way, huh?"

Lambert looked away. "I have to focus."

"You’ll just have to teach me how not to get in the way, later." Jaskier smirked. "Don't get hurt or we won't be able to teach each other _anything_."

Lambert nodded, still not meeting Jaskier’s eyes.

Jaskier tsk-ed and approached Geralt. “Where’s Yennefer when you need her, right?”

Geralt actually cracked a smile. “I don’t like portals anyway.” In reality, she almost never answered her phone, and Geralt had learned over time that if it was convenient for her, she’d be there. Never the other way around.

Jaskier found himself staring at Geralt. Old memories of seeing him off like this for contracts bubbled up, and he couldn’t quite bring himself to quash the anxiety that climbed up his throat.

Geralt saw the concern there. He had to have. He leaned in, hesitated just a breath away, before kissing Jaskier on the forehead.

Jaskier blinked up at him.

Geralt grunted and checked his baldric for the umpteenth time. The bandolier across his chest that held his potions tinkled with the movements.

Jaskier swallowed hard. He tried to be coy and fun as he had before, but… “I’ll pay you back for that.” He swore. “So you better hurry back if you want my mercy.”

Geralt nodded, not looking up. “I know better than to keep you waiting.”

Jaskier fidgeted awkwardly. _Look at me, you bastard. This just isn’t fair!_ He didn’t have any more witty comebacks, and he agonized over the growing silence until he heard Vesemir call to him.

When he whirled around, Vesemir was holding out a drawstring velvet bag. A relatively large one.

“It was supposed to be a gift, but necessity outweighs sentimentality.” Vesemir said stiffly.

Jaskier blinked at the man stupidly for a moment before attacking the bag and opening it eagerly. The leather harness came out first, and Geralt took it out of his hand to start wrapping it around him while he explored the bag further. He steadfastly ignored the feeling of Geralt’s hands on his waist.

When he took out the--

“Gladius.” Vesemir supplied when he saw Jaskier’s inquisitive look.

The _gladius_. When he took it out of the bag, he first noted that it wasn’t overbearingly huge. The scabbard was leather, and when he unsheathed the sword, Geralt took the scabbard to thread it through the belt’s opening. Jaskier hardly noticed, because the blade was gorgeous. The sheen of silver was bright even in the grey hellscape of the currently brewing storm. There was no guard, it wasn’t in the style, but set into the pommel was a beautiful gem.

“Is that an opal?”

“Spelled moonstone. Opal would have been better, but I can replace it when we get to the ranch.” Vesemir looked pleased as punch. He'd worried that it wasn't... flamboyant enough for him. He figured a rapier would be a better match to him, but the gladius was ~~on sale~~ the closest thing to presentable that still had a silver blade. 

“This is beautiful.” Jaskier said. “Eskel, what does moonstone mean?”

Eskel spoke automatically, putting his braided hair into a wrapped bun so it stacked on his head instead of dangled. “Wisdom, prophetic dream, foresight… there are other lesser known connections but I’d need my book to refresh on those.” He paused. “Opal is the Shifter’s stone, Moonstone is the Mage’s stone.”

Vesemir had disappeared while Jaskier wowed over the sword, and now returned with a call of “Crossbows!”

He tossed one to each, and then offered one to Jaskier hesitantly. “Know how to use it?”

Jaskier took it and nodded. “Haven’t in years, but it was one of the things Geralt made sure I knew.” He hefted it in his hands. “Like riding a bike, I hope.”

Vesemir’s brow cinched. “Shooting a bow is nothing like riding a bike, that’s ridiculous.”

Lambert snickered. It occurred to Jaskier that Vesemir took most things a tad too literally. He’d keep that in mind for later. “Why the hell do you guys not use guns, again?”

“Silver bullets are costly, guns are too loud, and if they get wet, you’re fucked.” Lambert answered.

“Easier to retrieve an arrow than a bullet, can use it underwater.” Eskel added.

“If it gets damaged, I can fix it on the go. Can’t exactly cast new metal gun parts in the middle of nowhere, but I can do woodwork anywhere.” Geralt added.

“I _get_ it, already.” Jaskier grumbled.

Vesemir grunted, but his smirk wasn’t malicious. “Okay, boys. Head out. The sooner you leave, the sooner we can get back on the road. After tonight, we’re going to be using those showers like a Novigrad whore.”

“Oh, yikes.” Jaskier winced. _Either way you interpret that statement, it's bad_.

Vesemir hitched an eyebrow at Jaskier. “Boy, that is an accurate comparison, you’ll see.”

“I’d rather not.”

* * *

Jaskier and Vesemir sat on the bus. Jaskier was told to be quiet so Vesemir could listen for threats. Jaskier was still optimistically thinking nothing untoward would happen.

There are three facts Jaskier were certain of: He was a pathetically horny on main, and apparently had a weakness for people who could kill him easily. He had a tendency to overthink things and talk out his ass.

And he could _not_ keep himself quiet, even if it killed him. No humming? No talking? No finger-drumming?

Jaskier did not like the silence. He never had and never would. It filled him with dread and anxiety, and made his head so loud to compensate.

Jaskier couldn't take it anymore. Three minutes in, he grabbed Lambert's laptop and headphones and sat down.

 _Hope they're back soon._ He thought glumly, resting his head on the window and staring up at the storm clouds.

* * *

It was a quiet jog. Normally that would be a good thing. The boys set a brutal pace, hoping to shave off a bit more time.

No sign of danger, but the hair stood up on Geralt's neck.

They were being watched.

That was much more subtly terrifying. Neither Eskel nor Lambert had said anything about the feeling, and Geralt was focused on breathing and keeping up.

Geralt began thinking of how he could manage to get everything he needed on his bike and drive back much quicker… but it would not work that way. And he didn’t have the keys to Vesemir’s truck.

It might take them twice as long to get back, with how heavy everything was. He and Eskel were strong, but this was going to be rough. Tour life wasn’t the same as the Path, they were out of shape where it really counted.

But…

“Lambert.” Geralt snapped.

“What did I do?”

“Nothing yet. Do you know where Vesemir keeps the keys to the truck?”

“You’re going to steal the old fucker’s truck?”

Geralt remembered something and smiled. “Better to ask for forgiveness than permission.”

Lambert groaned. “Okay, _Merigold_.”

Eskel jerked his head toward the right, beyond the trees. “Something was watching us. It’s not anymore.”

Lambert’s complaints died off. And then... “Can you guys run any faster?”

Thunder cracked, and the sky split open like a sack of shit potatoes, upending a downpour that settled the scowls a little deeper into each of their faces.

* * *

The lightning was close, the thunder was deafening, even over the music in the headphones. Jaskier looked up and saw Vesemir sitting up straighter than he was a minute ago, so still he might as well be a statue.

Jaskier’s sense of dread grew.

He pulled out one of the headphones, but the only sound was the overwhelming din of the rain on the bus roof, like white noise.

Vesemir stood up.

He looked Jaskier in the eye, and he walked off the bus.

Jaskier shut the laptop, took the headphones out, and scrambled after him.

Vesemir extended a hand to stop Jaskier, and then threw down Yrden.

“Please tell me you’re just going to piss.”

“I prefer unpleasant truths to pleasant lies.” Vesemir stated. “Be quiet, and be ready to run off the bus if I yell for you.”

“Yes, sir.” Jaskier said, mouth dry.

Vesemir kept his steps quiet, sword out. He palmed a potion, debated on whether to throw it back yet.

_Don’t know what I’m dealing with yet._

Whatever it was, it was intelligent and that ruled out quite a bit. He knew it was watching them, had been for about fifteen minutes now, staying carefully away and quiet enough that Vesemir hadn't been able to pick up anything.

Under the cover of heavy rain, it could move more freely. With how hard the rain was coming down, Vesemir could hardly count on Igni to do much damage. Maybe enough to count, if he were close enough.

Vesemir had a gut feeling. He patted a vial of oil on his bandolier. He should have applied it before the rain, he couldn't afford to now. He was operating on sheer experience and muscle memory-- but he was acutely aware how little muscle he had left compared to when he defended home year-round.

It had only been thirty minutes since the boys left. Even if Vesemir assumed they made record time, they wouldn't be back in time to help.

Vesemir desperately hoped his gut feeling was wrong.

Jaskier's heartrate went from anxious to erratic.

* * *

The feeling of being watched was usually a comfort to Jaskier. Now it was properly terrifying.

A noise.

Jaskier realized he was breathing too hard, he could hear his heart pounding in his head.

He could smell something in the autumnal rain.

_Wet dog._

“Uh… Vesemir?” Jaskier called, looking out the opposite window.

And then the din of the rain gave way to the piercing shriek of claws on metal. Jaskier’s hand shook on the hilt of the sword, and he dropped it in favor of the crossbow, praying the arrowheads were silver.

A werewolf twice the size of a fucking bear stared into the bus at him, eyes alert, breath fogging the window. Deranged.

And then he heard Vesemir call for him to duck, before Aard struck two more werewolves, sending them against the bus hard enough to crack one of the windows. The bus shook under the assault, and Jaskier lost his footing, dropping the crossbow to clutch at something to keep him on his feet. He immediately scrambled for the crossbow, but when he looked up, the bastard was gone.

Vesemir was fighting a losing battle, up against _three_ werewolves now. None of them had the look of intelligence about them. They fought like mindless fiends, but Jaskier noted immediately that Vesemir was dodging and defending-- not attacking.

In other words, Vesemir was fighting a battle he would not win. Not against three lithe and unpredictable opponents. Especially when there was a fourth waiting somewhere. Watching.

Jaskier had a horrible idea.

He fumbled for the belt, placing it down on the nearest bed. Next went the crossbow.

Jaskier didn't have time to stretch properly, but he told himself it wouldn't matter. He could _do_ this.

And so, when he took off in a dead sprint, screaming bloody murder to get the werewolves' attention, Vesemir joined the wolves in staring after Jaskier for a long second before returning to their previous battle.

Jaskier had no idea. He was a blur, he was the _wind_.

He ran back the way they'd come, which also probably wasn't the best idea. Cliff faces and unsteady footholds and all that. Lots of places for the One Unaccounted Werewolf to perch and pounce from.

Jaskier's calves began to burn after a minute. How long ago was high school again? He had said he used to be a track star-- emphasis on _used to_.

What happened when he ran out of energy? He realized he had nothing to defend himself with-- he'd thought speed and endurance would be enough.

Calves and lungs burning, Jaskier realized he might very well have fucked up. It was wet and cold and he hadn't even put his jacket on, and even though a glance backward told him the three werewolves Vesemir was fighting were not on his trail, Jaskier couldn't shake the smell of wet dog.

Turned around as he was, he tripped. Of course he tripped.

He tried to scramble back up, but slipped and a stray rock gouged his arm, cutting him.

He continued to try to run, slipping again, and then he heard the deep, guttural groan of something. His skin crawled as if it were trying to abandon him in fear. Jaskier looked up into the rain, saw those eyes staring down at him.

Jaskier palmed a particularly sharp rock and waited. The creature's drool accompanied the rain, contrastingly warm against his arm.

It jumped down, hunched just in front of him, baring teeth, and just as Jaskier gripped tighter to the sharp stone, preparing to strike even if it did nothing, headlights illuminated the area, and a horn blared loudly. Both of these things overwhelmed the werewolf's senses, staggering it before the car hit it, sending it flying backwards.

Two people flew out of the car, one springing to restrain the monster, the other hauling Jaskier carefully to his feet and shoving him into the car.

Jaskier fought against the pull. "Don't!" He warned the person ahead, but it was no use. Or was it? The person was scrambling around the werewolf, keeping it preoccupied as Jaskier lost the battle, forced into the warm car.

The rain seemed even louder, shut inside the car. Was that country music playing? Garth Brooks?

His captor ducked into the driver seat now, moving the seat forward so her shorter legs would reach. She honked and floored it. As they drove once again toward the werewolf-- now with the brave stranger distracting it-- Jaskier screamed and grabbed the oh-shit handle above the window for support.

The werewolf dodged the car this time, and the stranger hopped onto the hood.

"What the fuck! What the fuck!" Jaskier screamed as the stranger clutched onto the hood and rode out the storm as the driver did her best impression of Fast and Furious.

The driver was whistling along to the song playing on the stereo. As if Jaskier wasn't screaming, sometimes internally, mostly out loud.

"There he is!" The driver squealed as the bus and Vesemir came into view. As she slid into the area, the guy on the hood hopped off and joined Vesemir.

The driver patted him. "Stay here." Before jumping out of the _still moving car_ and joining the other.

Jaskier hopped into the driver seat, mud caking the console and seats as he clambered. He put the damn thing in park.

 _I should go get my weapons._ Jaskier reached for the handle, right as a the stranger was thrust backward onto the door, on the back of a werewolf. After screaming from the shock of it, Jaskier realized the man was still holding on.

He was _choking the werewolf out._

He put the windshield wipers into overdrive and searched for Vesemir, who he found was dragging the girl, who'd driven the car, _off_ of an unconscious werewolf.

Jaskier turned the music volume knob all the way off and cracked the window. "Excuse me, crazy person!"

The werewolf slumped in the man's grip, and was shoved unceremoniously away. He turned to the window and smiled brilliantly. "You're safe now, come on out."

Jaskier felt his expression freeze in a steely smile of his own, he rolled the window back up and _locked the goddamn doors._

* * *

Jaskier waited until Vesemir urged him to come out. Introductions would have to wait-- as well as an explanation for why Jaskier felt the need to sprint off into the night without a weapon-- because the werewolves would need to be dealt with first.

"Was right about those showers, weren't I?" Vesemir folded his arms and his mustache quirked in amusement.

Jaskier ignored that. "So… I notice you haven't killed them. Why is that?"

Vesemir thumbed the side of his nose. "They're cursed humans. Should be straightforward to fix once the boys are back."

"They were given a specific trigger to activate the lycanthropy." The girl stranger said. "Pretty complex spell. They're here, not following your little pack, so it's not them. Probably isn't you, so it's most likely this one." She gestured to Jaskier. Her short fingernails were painted stark white, contrasting her dark skin.

"Pissed off any Graduates lately?" The other stranger, the one with the pretty smile, asked. His eyes were unnerving. He was definitely a Hard One, but his eyes were greener than the others.

"I mean… any crazed fan who doesn't approve of me might have motive to… cut me out." Jaskier bit his lip.

The man tsked. "You look sick to your stomach. Surely you have a better idea than that. This would be too expensive a commission from a regular fan."

"Keira Metz." Jaskier muttered. "She has reason to be thoroughly pissed at me."

A beat of silence. Then the girl reached out to him, pulling him into a hug before he could back away. "We just became friends." She whispered.

"Enemy-of-my-enemy kind of friends?"

"I've wanted to grind that cunt's face into a very sharp rock for a _long_ time now." She said, voice chipper and light. "Now, though, I might not be held back from it."

"Aiden." Vesemir said, moving to one of the werewolves. "He's waking up."

Jaskier was shooed away to the bus. The girl winked at him, her soft pink eyes glimmering. "Gear up, sweetie. Aiden and I will cover you."

"Where's the fourth one, though?" He asked, as he walked away. No one answered him.

As he walked past the car, he saw deep claw indentations in the trunk. _That was almost me_. He realized.

He got onto the bus and finally looked down at himself. Cut, bruised, drenched, and covered in mud. He felt disgusting and pathetic.

He didn't want to dirty his pretty new weapon, especially since they were obviously not going to kill the werewolves.

Jaskier, instead, found himself sitting down on the steps into the bus, buried his filthy face into filthier hands, and let the building anxiety manifest as maniacal laughter.

* * *

Every bump in the road was misery. Geralt was driving-- the options were "person who can't drive" and "person who will be killed for driving" or Geralt. Everyone involved decided that Geralt was the best choice.

But Lambert and Eskel, in the bed of the truck, didn't have to like it.

They slung around with every bump and turn. The tarp-covered replacement part had to be held down. They couldn't find a cord strong enough to hold it, and were not about to wait for one to appear.

Lambert was tempted to kick the back window and tell Geralt to drive better, but he was already going to be throttled within an inch of his life over stealing the keys.

Instead, he kicked the window and told Geralt to drive _faster_.

Eskel was practically laying on the thing to keep it from rolling. The rain made the truck bed slippery, so half the time when a sharp corner almost sent them flying out of the bed, Lambert found himself clutching to Eskel's arm to not fall off and die.

Some support they were supposed to be.

The weirdest thing was the ranch was empty. The workers that usually kept the ranch up seemed to have disappeared suddenly. Must have been recently too.

Now that the rain was clearing up, the sense of something being _off_ was intensifying. Nothing had attacked them. Nothing had appeared to them.

They hit another bump and Eskel bit his cheek. At least he wasn't flying around like Lambert, but the effort of holding the damn thing still made his arms and legs ache. He was using his weight and size to his advantage, but he was still struggling to not slip and bash his head on something.

The overpowering scent of wet dog reached them first. And then the smell of blood, and Geralt _floored_ it upon recognition that this was _Jaskier's_ scent.

Then two other scents rammed themselves up his nostrils and Geralt hit the brakes as the bus came into view.

"Geralt!" Eskel yelled, as the part pinned him against the back window. Lambert was trying his best to move the part, but it took Geralt's help to release Eskel.

Distantly, they heard, "Is that my truck?"

* * *

Jaskier was safe. Much safer now, practically crushed between three fussy Hard Ones. Jaskier recounted the whole sordid affair, while Aiden, Nikki, and Vesemir looked on from the sidelines, occasionally interjecting that something or another was slightly exaggerated.

"My driving wasn't _that_ bad." Nikki scoffed.

"No, he's right about that." Aiden disagreed solemnly. "I would know, from the hood."

Nikki pursed her lips before nodding. "Alright, that's fair."

Aiden eyed the four of them and glanced to Vesemir. "Wow. A _square_."

Nikki huffed. "Are they gonna fix the bus, or are they gonna sit there and gawp at each other?"

Geralt seemed to hear that one. He separated from the group and motioned for Aiden to help him. Vesemir tagged along, and it was good that he did.

"So why do you have a whole-ass engine stored away at home?" Aiden grunted as they unloaded the damn thing.

"I believe in being prepared for the worst." Vesemir said. "I'm sure it's obvious why."

Eskel and Lambert came to help, and Geralt set to work-- or, rather, he stood there looking consternated. He wrung his fingers as his jaw clenched.

"Geralt?" Jaskier asked.

Geralt looked dead inside. He turned to the others. He opened his mouth, shut it, and then kicked the front of the bus hard enough that it made Jaskier flinch.

He kicked it again. " _I forgot my fucking tools_!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be completely serious until I got to a very Obvious point and I said to myself "it would be fun as shit to write this like this..." and I said "fuck it, if it helps me finish the got-damn chapter, hopefully other people find it funny too!"
> 
> So, we're home in Kaer Morhen, we've met up with Aiden and Nikki...........
> 
> And apparently someone has it out for our boys.


	17. Magic Eight Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aiden and Nikki get to know Jaskier better. Maybe also the other way around.
> 
> Vesemir shows off his pool prowess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if you can't tell from this chapter, I really like pro wrestling. Where else can I see a beautiful and diverse cast of people acting like jocks fused with theatre kids? I also live with someone who used to train as a wrestler, he kind of rekindled the love of the sport for me. Might consider getting into wrestling myself one day, if I can be motivated lmao.

The curse that held the werewolves was sloppy, but that was good for the victims. It meant their free will began to return to them. Turns out, Vesemir could tell immediately by smell when they got close enough-- these were the people he hired to take care of the farm.

Explained why he didn't kill them.

Since they were lucid, Vesemir challenged them to get home so he could work on curing them. He promised to give them hazard pay and raw steaks. One of those things sent them running.

The engine was put back in the bed of the truck, and the boys piled on to hold onto it as Vesemir coaxed his precious truck back to life, muttering obscenities. Jaskier was given the choice to ride next to him, or take his chances in the car.

Aiden looped his arm through Jaskier’s and pulled him away, making the choice for him. “Don’t worry, I’m a better driver.” He whispered.

“Do I have a say in this?” Jaskier asked.

“Wanna hear about when Lambert was my tag team partner?” Aiden asked.

Jaskier leapt toward the car.

* * *

Jaskier was enjoying this car ride. He actually didn’t mind that he was sitting in on a bumpy road for over an hour, with such good conversation.

“So let me get this straight.” Jaskier said. “Nikki, you were Coen’s girlfriend. The one Lambert told me about.”

“Did he tell you that I broke his ankle on accident?” Her voice was always so sweet and happy. It was disconcerting sometimes.

“No…”

“Good, that means I don’t owe him for that anymore.” She winked.

Jaskier huffed a laugh and continued. “So, I thought Coen was in law school?”

“He was. But he was thinking of dropping out and pursuing wrestling full time.” Aiden said. “Back in those days, we were a stable. Uh, that’s a group of like… affiliated wrestlers, if you’re not familiar.”

“Oh, good. Thanks for the clarification, I was under the impression you were horses.” Jaskier deadpanned.

“Ha.” Aiden rolled his eyes. “I deserved that one, didn’t I?”

Nikki made a weird noise at him. “I like this one, we should take him with us when we leave.”

“That’s the opposite of the plan.”

“C’mon, you like him too.” Nikki laughed.

Jaskier cut into the conversation. “So, uh. How long you two been together?”

It went deathly quiet.

Aiden’s voice was a little too high. “Together?”

Nikki punched him in the thigh. “I told you it was obvious.”

“You’re not helping!” he cried.

Jaskier stared out the window, holding his breath and biting his lip because he suddenly realized he’d stumbled onto the world's worst landmine apparently.

“Let me explain.” Aiden said.

Nikki groaned. “No, let _me_ explain.”

“Neither of you have to explain, I’ll stay quiet, I promise.” Jaskier pleaded.

The silence returned.

“So you were a stable?” Jaskier prompted.

Nikki picked up the story from there. “Yeah, it was Coen, Lambert, and I. Lambert introduced Coen and Aiden, that was sweet of him...”

“Why did he leave?”

She paused. “He wanted to be a rock star. He was good.”

“Is. He _is_ good.” Jaskier corrected. “I actually got him to sing again.”

“Oooh, that’s cute.” Nikki smirked. “So has he gone soft, serenading you, or was this something he broke out to apologize for something?”

“Um? We had a bit of a competition going on. I said I would learn to scream if he learned to sing… and we ended up teaching each other because we both ended up hurting ourselves without guidance.”

Nikki’s smile was feral. “That is the cutest fucking thing.”

Aiden cleared his throat. “What about Geralt?”

“What about him?”

“You guys were… involved, from what Vesemir told me. Does that make it awkward?”

“I…” Jaskier hesitated. “I’m not sure it’s awkward. The past is the past. Geralt can fuck as he pleases. So can I.”

Nikki shrugged. “Seems like solid logic to me.”

“How about Eskel?” Aiden asked. “I haven’t seen Bugbear so tense in… what, years?”

“Really? I didn’t think he was tense… he seems a lot more relaxed than when I started touring with them.”

Aiden and Nikki exchanged glances.

“Why are you doing that? What does that mean?” Jaskier asked.

Nikki seemed to want to take this one, turning around sideways in her seat to make full eye contact. “Dunno how to break it to you, but the last time he was that on-edge was before he and Geralt started sharing bedrooms. If you know what I mean.”

“I… don’t know what you m--” _Sitting on Geralt’s lap to learn to drive_. “Oh.”

“Oh, wow, this is worse than I thought.” Aiden said. “Also, you didn’t hear it from us.”

“I… uhm. Wow. That…” _is not something I need to be thinking about right now_. “So… Am I causing strain to their… relationship? Is that why he’s tense?”

Aiden scoffed. “Relationship is a strong word. More like best friends with occasional benefits.”

“That doesn’t make this easier.” Jaskier said.

“I think what we’re trying to convey, Jaskier, is that you seem to have the attention of three beautiful, touch-starved, fucked up, semi-immortal idiots.” Nikki said. “What are you going to do about it?”

 _Oh_.

“Beside panic. Don’t panic.” She added when she saw Jaskier’s anxiety register on his face.

Aiden sighed. “We should have let him figure it out on his own.”

“How? Let him walk in on Geralt and Eskel going at it in the garage? I’m still scarred for life over that, and it was like ten years ago!”

_MORE THINGS NOT TO THINK ABOUT!_

“No, I just meant, maybe it would be better if he discovered the extent of his feelings the natural way. Not through the power of suggestion.”

Nikki sighed overdramatically. She rolled her eyes and gestured at Jaskier. “What do you think, sweetie? Do you feel suggestible, or have you been struggling to choose one of them lately?”

“I… never thought to choose one.” He admitted.

She cocked her head. “Really? Not once?”

“I… I don't want to get hurt again.”

Nikki clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, god, Denny, it’s the _one_.”

“Hm?”

“Remember when Geralt lost his shit and started breaking things?”

“I thought it was about Yen.”

“It was.” Jaskier insisted.

“Bullshit.” She said, and then gasped. “Oh, shit. Remember those songs?”

Aiden hummed in thought. “Lambert told us to look up the band, but I never did. Not big on metal, myself. I like the classics.”

Nikki groaned again, and Jaskier couldn’t help but think she should learn how to do metal growls if she was going to keep doing that. “Before Lambert joined the band, he showed me and Coen some of the songs Geralt was doing. They were so romantic and… I didn’t think he had it in him.”

“Yen has that effect.”

“Bull. Shit.” Nikki said. “Look, between you and me, I know why he and Yen never worked out. Everyone knows.”

Curiosity bit at Jaskier. “Why, then?”

“Because Yen doesn’t like to be second best.”

“She… wasn’t. He chose her.”

“God, stop being so dense.” Nikki huffed. “The songs he wrote. Those were not… they didn’t fit Yennefer.”

“I’ve already gone through Bewitchery’s entire discography. What song are you talking about?”

“No, not Bewitchery. Burealize! Aiden, can I play it? Please?” She simpered.

“Can it wait? I’m trying to focus on the road.”

“If we were talking about wrestling, you’d be distracted more, but you wouldn’t complain.”

“I like wrestling, though. I don’t want to listen to sappy shit right now, it’ll stress me out. I’ll have to live amongst all this unfulfilled sexual tension all winter. You can show him when we get there.”

“We can still talk about wrestling, though.” Jaskier interjected. “I can wait for the song.”

The arguing persisted on and off, but playful-like. Nikki and Aiden felt like an old married couple.

They finally told the story of what happened. The four of them, Aiden, Nikki, Coen, and Lambert were a team. They were in the indies, and happy about it. It allowed a certain freedom and energy to it. They didn’t have to take themselves too seriously.

But the money wasn’t always there. So when they were offered a spot in a developmental branch of a huge professional wrestling company, they thought it was everything they could ever want.

While Coen and Nikki stressed about everything, Aiden was their rock. He drew up a budget and a schedule and they figured out how to work their dream job around their day jobs and appointments. He made it clear he was along for the ride, whichever path they chose. He didn't care about being the best, or the accolades, or even the money. Over time working with Coen and Nikki, he understood what was important.

Aiden was laid-back, and had the appearance of someone who was carefree. But he was smart. He could find loopholes in anything-- in fact, Coen depended on that when he was doing his homework for law school. So it stood to reason that when the contracts were drawn up, Coen and Aiden went over them with a fine tooth comb for any loopholes.

Nothing stood out at the time. Nothing they couldn't live with.

Coen wasn’t sure about it, but this was going to be the only way he could get through college. The grants only went so far. Nikki was saving up for a surgery, and she didn't want to miss out on any HRT because she couldn't afford it. Everyone else was going pro, and neither of them wanted to get left behind.

Plus, it was great to see everyone getting the love they deserved. Even if the fans were sometimes cruel and the creative team catered to that once or twice, Nikki was overwhelmed by the response of other trans women, and loved that she finally had an audience that understood her, that could access her.

About a year into the contract, Lambert started getting stir crazy. Where the others saw stability, he saw shackles. To top it off, the management were assholes and idiots, and they were going to break up the stable for petty drama because they didn't know what else to do with them. Their treatment of Nikki was also getting more disrespectful and Lambert was less inclined to grit and bear it.

Lambert asked for his release. The only condition was that he couldn't compete for a set amount of time, and Lambert figured that wouldn't be too bad.

Coen wasn't _disappointed_. But Lambert thought he was. It drove a bit of a wedge there.

Lambert decided the band was a promising venture, and maybe in a couple years he'd come back to wrestling with a renewed love and respect for the sport.

Coen, once again, wasn't disappointed. But Lambert thought he was. Nikki tried to help him but Aiden eventually convinced her to let him go.

He'd be back, after all. Maybe in a few months. Maybe a year. Maybe they'd all get to go watch a concert-- or they could cop some front row tickets to a pay-per-view.

And then Coen died.

It was hard. They were wracked with grief, surrounded by the home that Coen had made by being there. Now that he wasn't there, they didn't feel like themselves.

They felt empty. Aiden was tense, spent too much time at the gym but his head never cleared. Nikki, always so optimistic and cheerful, went nonverbal for months.

And they _still_ had to work. Even worse, the creative team at the company decided that Coen's death was the basis for a good storyline!

Aiden drew the line when the company sent a Doppler colleague to take the form of Coen. Not even as a proper sendoff-- but as an angle. Dudu wasn't keen on it, but he was under contract. It was nothing personal, but he was in the form of Coen; he knew how Coen would have felt in that situation, and that made it worse for everyone.

Nikki screamed and cried when she saw Dudu as Coen. Dudu quit the company that night. He said he'd rather never wear another face again than ever be used to hurt someone like that. And then Aiden found the script they were going to use.

"They were going to use Coen dying as some sort of conspiracy angle, saying he faked his death to get away from us. Because we were holding him down." Aiden seethed.

Nikki had a very grim set to her jaw. She lost some of the cheer in her voice, and now Jaskier realized that she just sounded scary as shit when she was angry. "They wanted me to get in bed with Dudu, imply we were having sex, and use that as part of the angle, too."

"When she turned that down, they asked me." Aiden said, knuckles tightening on the leatherclad steering wheel.

Jaskier was shaking. "Please tell me--"

"We quit." Nikki said. "We got a call from Dudu. He had gotten into another promotion, and he begged them to look into us. He felt like he owed us."

"Since we joined, Nikki never gets treated like a joke. She's actually the woman's champion."

Nikki grinned proudly.

"And we don't have to worry about Coen's face being used against us like that…"

"Or so we thought." Nikki sighed.

The silence stretched. Jaskier huffed. "Okay, you can't just stop there."

"We need to talk to Vesemir about this. It doesn't feel right to talk to anyone else first. I promise I'll tell you later." Nikki said. "In the meantime, look up Burealize on your phone."

"I… may have forgotten that existed. And how to spell it."

Nikki looked at Jaskier's phone. "Not Burialize. With an e."

"Why?" Jaskier pouted. "It doesn't make sense."

Nikki rolled her eyes and tucked her pastel pink hair behind dagger-sharp ears. "Burial isn't the main word. Realize is. Because the songs were meant to bury the feelings, but the realization was stronger."

"Who said that?"

"Me. Just now. I fucking loved their music. Haven't heard the last couple albums, but I'm looking forward to dissecting them. We'll trade, right? Old for new?"

"You like to search lyrics for hidden meaning, don't you?"

Aiden broke in. "Fuck, yes. She keeps me up all night talking about how Mr. Brightside could have been about either the man or woman. Or about old music videos to songs I've never willingly heard."

"Rude." Nikki said flippantly. "You're just mad because I don't think Bryan Adams is sexy."

"His voice is perfect! His hair was perfect! He wrote perfect love songs that were timeless!"

"Michael Bolton is overrated." Nikki taunted.

Aiden made a hysterical noise.

Jaskier looked out the window and saw something around the bend. Fences, horses… and a home.

Werewolves were already sitting around on the porch, panting happily. Jaskier picked one out of the group, the smallest one, and wondered how likely it was to be a child.

These people were cursed. Someone knew monster hunters lived here. They were sentencing these people to potential death just because they worked for--

"What would have happened if Vesemir had killed one of them?"

Nikki and Aiden went quiet. "Considering that the curse was probably triggered by your proximity, the goal was probably for the werewolves to kill you or die trying. And four is a little overkill, even if one is young." Aiden trailed off.

"I think the goal was for them to kill you, upon which the curse would be targetless, and they would stop fighting, to be mown down."

"They were fighting Vesemir, though. I even tried to distract them."

Nikki hummed. "That cut on your shoulder." She looked at him. "Did things start to get scarier after that?"

Jaskier thought. "I…" Finally, he nodded. "Okay, yeah. But what would have happened? It obviously wasn't foolproof, because no one died, so what was their backup plan?"

Aiden put the car in park. "It remains to be seen what happens. We'll just have to play it by ear."

"Is it safe for me to be around them while they're still transformed?" Jaskier asked as they got out of the car.

"Don't start bleeding again." Nikki warned.

Jaskier swallowed down his anxiety, meeting the eyes of the wolf that Nikki had hit with the car.

_Sure hope this isn't as awkward as it feels._

* * *

Vesemir took plenty of time feeding the werewolves their steaks. He sat them down and set up a system for communicating. They could answer simple questions.

He had to figure out if home was still safe, and see if he could glean anything useful that would help break the curse.

"We have a Graduate coming here. Not the same one that did this-- she's not stable or even nice. Or polite, for that matter. But she wouldn't do this, even if you spat on her. She would have just killed you." Vesemir trailed off.

"Anywho! She'll be here with my granddaughter, Ciri. Remember her? When they get here, I'll ask her for her input if I can't figure this out by then." He waited for each of them to nod in acknowledgement before he got up.

"Oh. Once again I apologize for this whole shitfest. If you can't work for me again, I'll understand, but I'll miss you all. I was hoping we could go fishing this spring, Reginald."

One of the wolves snorted at him.

"I'll be home from here on out, so you won't have to watch the farm like it's empty. But you will always have a job here if you want it. And a home, if you need it."

Vesemir's gaze darkened. "I'm sorry someone saw reason to target us through you, but I swear…" his eye twitched. "I will get to the bottom of this, and whoever did this to you will be dealt with by my hand."

Vesemir stood up, took a deep breath, and let himself slouch as he released it. "It's good to be home. Be welcome in the house, friends; isn't the first time a wolf roamed the halls." The mirth returned to his voice, crinkling around his eyes as he held the door. "Gonna be cold out tonight, and I'll be damned if I make you sleep in the barn. Sooner make my boys do so."

Vesemir groaned into his hand. "I _might_ make them sleep in the barn if they get up to the bullshit I expect them to."

But that brought him back around to his plans. He looked around. Eskel was already going through the fridge, whistling as he looked at what there was to make in the morning.

Lambert was mourning that he didn't have his laptop on him, and so he had to settle for Netflix. Jaskier stood next to him and asked if he liked the Lord of the Rings. As Lambert pulled it up, Jaskier called for Eskel, making jokes about it being too late (or early) for second breakfast.

Geralt immediately retreated to the bathroom, where he would soak in the jacuzzi tub until he looked like a goddamn prune. Vesemir would have to make sure he didn't fall asleep in there.

Aiden and Nikki were in the hallway, looking at all the family photos framed on the walls. Vesemir approached them, steered them into the game room, where everything was decorated with antlers. The centerpiece of the room was a huge pool table.

Vesemir nodded to the table, and Aiden racked up. Vesemir tossed a pool cue to Nikki. "You two will have to share. No one uses my cue."

"No promleb." Nikki said. "Problem. No problem."

"You two seem nervous. Is it because you assumed I wouldn't approve?"

"Approve?" Aiden asked, tongue sticking out a bit as he focused on getting the balls just so on the table.

"I'm not dumb." Vesemir growled. "Where is the ring?"

Nikki flinched. "There isn't one. Yet."

"What are you waiting for? Coen wouldn't have liked this hiding." Vesemir folded his hands over the tip of the cue. "Throw me that chalk by your elbow, dear."

Nikki used the chalk before complying, to buy herself time. "It wasn't supposed to be like this. You know that."

"Well. We can't help that, can we?" Vesemir sighed. "Tell me, then."

Nikki shrugged. "I'm not really into sex, never was. Thought Coen would be the only person to respect that about me. Aiden joined, and I… we were complete. As a unit, y'know?"

Vesemir nodded. Nikki chose this time to take the first shot. Buy herself more time.

Aiden stepped closer to her, careful not to get in the way of the cue. "I loved Coen. Just as much as I love Nikki. And he wasn't unsure of how all of you would take it. He just didn't know if the…"

"Polyamory." Nikki supplied. Nine ball in the corner pocket.

Aiden clapped. "That's the word. None of you seem to be big on committed relationships. Coen was old fashioned, wanted to do everything right all the time."

"They clashed over it a lot." Nikki smirked, passing him the cue as she missed her next shot.

"I regret that we never made it official."

"So why not now?" Vesemir asked.

Nikki sat down in a plush chair out of range of the sticks. "This would be better discussed over wine."

"Later. Away from prying ears." Aiden added. The one ball fell last move, but he'd set out to break up a bunch. No yield. "Your turn."

Vesemir whistled, measuring a distance between the cue ball and his target. He kept his words as he angled up, the stick sliding over his fingers once. Twice.

With a nearly deafening crack, the cue ball shot across the table, knocked the two into the side pocket before hitting the six as well, lining them up for another easy shot.

Aiden and Nikki didn't have another turn. Vesemir controlled the board. When all he had left was the eight, he had to call which hole it went in. The side pocket was the obvious choice, but he motioned to a corner pocket that was mostly obscured by other balls.

Vesemir squared up, and another crack preceded the blur of the ball as it sent the 8 bouncing off two rails before hitching just behind the wall of balls and into the corner pocket as predicted.

Vesemir smiled at them. "I'm sure you're both tired. Otherwise you might have given me a challenge." He put his cue stick away, and caught the other one without really looking when they threw it. "After all that dodging, I'm looking forward to a soak. I'm sure the two of you need one as well."

Time to make sure Geralt wasn't drowning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who wanted more Geralt/Eskel, we're starting the next chapter with it. The sex will be skippable, as always, but I decided to stop the chapter here because I ran out of steam. I'll be back again soon.


	18. Naked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nudity, showers, and affection.
> 
> And Jaskier understands Vesemir in a way he never, ever wanted to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyy sorry. Depression and overtime. Had to take a break for a minute and work on some original work to convince myself that I'm not entirely hopeless. My series of stories are not convinced and neither am I but on the bright side we're gonna get a kiss in this chapter.
> 
> don't hate me too much guys, I promise i'll be delivering on that tension very soon. just gotta marinade jaskier in a little more sexual frustration first. it'll be worth it.
> 
> preheat the oven, first, yeah?
> 
> Warning for sexual content. if that's your squick, skip the enclosed text between *** lines. love y'all, stay safe.

Geralt wasn't drowning. Not in the water.

While he was in the shower before his soak-- because he didn't want to sit in a mud stew, he wanted to be clean in the tub. Made it easier to clean up afterwards-- he heard the door. "Lambert is letting Jaskier get the first shower in the other room. I'm glad we have the world's most resilient water heaters." Eskel's voice muffled briefly as he stripped off his shirt.

Geralt felt a smile tug at his lip. "Hmm."

The sound of pants hitting the tile, belt buckle clattering a bit, reached his ears over the din of the water raining over the curtain of his hair. Geralt awaited the brief chill as the shower door opened. "Room for two?" Eskel asked.

"Always." Geralt said. He hadn't been able to stop thinking of the last time they were together. When he couldn't figure out the sudden change in Eskel's mood, he settled on the worst possible explanation:

Eskel didn't love him anymore. Maybe he did once, but now he loved Jaskier.

This was obvious. Geralt could read it in others, just not himself. The looks he and Jaskier exchanged. The words.

Now Geralt knew how it felt to be the third wheel. The second fiddle. And it hurt, but he swallowed his pain because he realized how selfish he'd been. He'd missed his chance to say the words.

As always, he'd counted on his actions to communicate for him. Kissing someone so hard they see stars doesn't count as a confession.

The shower was barely big enough for them, but the tub would be better. And it was much more fun to clean a lover than oneself.

When they were home for the winters, it was common to seek each other out, any time of day, any kind of context. Geralt could be half-covered in motor oil in the garage, and Eskel could come in and just help him out, holding the light so Geralt could see better, handing him a wrench sometimes. Even when he didn't really need a wrench. It was funny.

Funny or not, it usually ended with one of them pinned to the workbench or vehicle, clutching at each other and painting skin with smears of black grease.

Other times, Eskel could be settled in a nest of blankets, one bare leg hitched up on a stool, the hum of a tattoo gun a relaxing background noise as he would touch up and add to the patchwork quilt of images.

Once again, Geralt would come and help him, either by holding the skin taut as Eskel worked on trickier bits, or even volunteering his own body for target practice. Any excuse to get their hands on each other.

Tattooing was an intimate act, anyway you cut it. Or, it was when Eskel did it. And Geralt loved watching his concentration, his steady hands, the minute twitch to lips that he yearned to feel _everywhere_.

So when the gun was cast aside, ink-stained fingers would mark Geralt all the same. Geralt hated washing it off, wanted to wear every mark Eskel gave him with just as much pride as the ones he left permanently.

And now, under the almost blistering heat of the shower, it occurred to Geralt that he might never have those moments again. Eskel had always been a constant for him, something he never realized this fully just how much he took for granted.

It was Jaskier all over again.

***

Eskel's mouth lit on the curve of Geralt's shoulder, his fingers sneaking around his abdomen. It left him feeling somewhat ticklish.

Geralt's knees almost went weak. Eskel rarely made the first move quite like this, and Geralt took care never to let on just how much he loved it.

He didn't have the energy or the heart to hide away right now.

"I should get revenge on you now. Don't know when I'll have the chance again, with how full the house will be." Eskel murmured.

_Revenge for…?_

"I wonder if I can push you against the shower wall and make /you beg."

Geralt felt his breath desert him and he didn't have time to chase it, because Eskel was full and imposing against his back now, the press of his body, of his _cock_ , and his other hand came up to cradle Geralt's neck.

" _Fuck_ , Esk."

"Language." Eskel growled. "There are plenty of words I want to hear from you, but since I'm more merciful than you, I'll give you a few to start with."

The feeling of Eskel reversing the roles went straight to his cock, and Geralt was dizzy, almost slipping.

Eskel's hand on his stomach became a bar of support, holding him firm against his body. "Say that you want me." He whispered into Geralt's ear.

"I do. I fuckin' do." Geralt said.

"Say it then." Eskel growled.

The water was a bit too hot, perhaps. It was hard to concentrate and even harder to focus. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, and his voice was stubbornly stuck in his throat. "I want you." He finally choked out.

"Was that so hard?" Eskel asked, rolling his hips to remind Geralt there were harder things at play here. "Now I want you to--"

***

A knock at the door.

"You boys hurry up in there. Still plenty of showers to be had."

Geralt braced himself against the wall for support as Eskel shrank back, like a scolded dog.

"We can continue this later?" Geralt asked.

Eskel's smile was barely a twitch to his lips. "Think I can fit you in."

Geralt hummed and leaned in for a kiss. "Thought we were doing opposites today."

Eskel thought of his sames and opposites song and snorted against Geralt's lips.

Geralt drew away. Eskel set to work washing his back. "We'd better hurry up." Geralt murmured, that pit in his stomach sinking further and further.

* * *

Jaskier poked his head out to where Lambert was sitting on the counter. "Lambsteak, help." He whispered.

Lambert perked up. "What's up, Buttercup?" He asked before he made a horribly awkward face. Jaskier would have to ask him about that later.

"I… don't have anything to change into and everyone else here is much larger than me."

"I'm big where it counts." Lambert said.

"Not what I meant…" Jaskier tried not to react. "But. Um. I don't want to wear a shirt like a dress. Have anything I can borrow?"

Lambert was already pushing off the counter and coming closer. He got right up in Jaskier's face, and Jaskier's gaze went straight to those lips.

"Go soak in the tub while I get you something. I'll let myself in."

Lambert walked off as if the roiling tension wasn't about to bowl them both over. Jaskier sank back into the room and huddled against the door.

It now occurred to him it was going to be a long winter. A long and _hard_ winter.

But, as suggested, Jaskier approached the jacuzzi tub and turned it on. The temperature was temperamental, but he'd already figured that out in the shower. As much as he loved a hot bath, he didn't want to cook himself.

 _Being cooked implies being eaten._ His brain ventured.

"Please stop." He grumbled to himself, bending over the bathtub to feel how hot the water was. He was about to climb in when the door opened.

Jaskier, being tired and somewhat more shameless since this whole adventure began, turned to look at Lambert as he came in--

And that awkward face had returned, as Lambert got a good look at just about everything Jaskier had to offer. He stood there, bundle of clothes in his hands, witty remarks having flown the coop.

"Shut the door, Lambchop. It's cold."

Lambert shook himself, as if he were possessed, and did as he was told without any further argument.

Jaskier climbed into the tub and groaned as the heat leeched the remaining pains from the day that the shower had missed. "I guess I'll chalk this up as revenge for walking in on you pounding Louis."

Lambert coughed. "Yeah, whatever." He came closer, trying not to stare. Not because he was trying to be polite, he just didn't want Jaskier to see his face. He was trying to control it.

"You should get a shower too. If you don't mind me soaking here, that is. Wouldn't want you getting shy."

Lambert laughed. "Only brought enough clothes for one person. So you're gonna have to deal with a bit of full frontal too."

Jaskier rolled his eyes but his cheeks were reddening. He sunk lower into the water as if to hide it. "I'll leave you some dignity."

"My dignity isn't so fragile that you looking will hurt it." Lambert had already stripped his armor off at the front door along with everyone else when they had arrived, but now he was pulling his shirt off.

Jaskier looked over at him, saw the flex of his obliques as he stretched, going onto his tiptoes. Those pants accentuated Lambert's ass too well-- and then Jaskier's gaze caught Lambert's as he hitched his thumbs under the waistband.

Jaskier inhaled bathwater and tried not to cough. He failed, spluttering as he repeatedly tried not to waterboard himself.

Lambert turned the water to the tub off. "Be careful. I know CPR."

When had that become a running joke? Jaskier looked up at Lambert and nearly pleaded for him to go on disrobing. He began whistling a tune Jaskier remembered from Lambert's sex mix, and he turned around. He approached the shower, turning it on to let the water steam up a bit.

And then he worked on stripping the tight pants away from his skin. Whistling gave way to cursing and grunting as he struggled for a bit. Finally, with it around one ankle, he tried to flail it off, but it stuck fast to his foot, nearly making him fall.

He looked at Jaskier over his shoulder as he pried the pants off his foot, but Jaskier just had this dopey grin on his face.

Lambert's cock twitched, and he was immensely glad he was turned away. He scrambled into the shower and shut the opaque glass door.

This was a horrible idea but Lambert was nothing if not impulsive. He wanted to see Jaskier's reactions. He wanted Jaskier's attention.

He wanted Jaskier. Full stop.

He had been thinking of how to make it a fun friend kind of thing, like "hey, Junedune, I know you're sexually frustrated because you reek of it, and unlike Eskel and Geralt neither of us have stable fuck buddies. Wanna kill two birds with one nut?"

No, he hadn't been rehearsing that line. Totally.

And yeah, he knew Geralt and Eskel wanted a piece of Jaskier. It was obvious. But they already had each other, and Geralt had already had a chance and fucked it up. Why fight over Jaskier when they could just let Lambert have something nice for once?

Maybe that was a little selfish of him. Maybe he was being unreasonable. Maybe even a bit possessive.

Of course Geralt had to do what Geralt did best: complicate things. Ever since their little run-in with the "joke kiss" Lambert had been thinking a bit too much.

It's not like Lambert had never had the hots for Geralt on a base level. They all grew up together and maybe gotten a bit too drunk once or twice. Maybe that kiss reinvigorated something.

He fucking hated it. But the idea of sandwiching Jaskier between them was enticing. Sometimes a bit too enticing.

And now he was hard and trying to keep it out of the limelight. Showing off his dick piercings would probably be over the line.

Wouldn't it?

The potential reaction he’d receive did nothing to calm the heat that roiled in his guts.

Jaskier, meanwhile, kept casting furtive glances to the shower, watching the silhouette move. He wondered if Lambert knew the glass wasn’t _that_ opaque. He could see Lambert’s back and shoulders, and the familiar patterns of tattoos there.

“Who does your tattoos?” Jaskier asked, laying back and urging himself not to ogle Lambert too much.

“Eskel.” Lambert answered.

“Really? Wonder why he never mentioned that.”

“Why'd you ask? You interested in getting one?”

Jaskier hummed. “Maybe. Might be fun. Never had a tattoo.”

Lambert made a noise. “It’s different for everyone, so I’ve heard. Some people find it relaxing. Some people find it painful.”

“What about you?”

Silence. And then, “I get horny.”

“Of course you do.” Jaskier sighed. “It shouldn’t be too painful, right?”

“Depends on where you get one. What do you want?”

“A little something behind my ear. A callback to my old band.”

“Sounds cute.” Lambert taunted. “Makes me want to get the words Barbie Girl on my ass.”

“Only if you get the R and L mixed up.” Jaskier said.

“No. I’ll mix the R and I up. Barbie Gril. And I’ll put it in a circle around a grill.”

“That’s a fucking masterpiece. I love it.”

“Get me drunk enough, I might actually do it.” Lambert laughed. “By the way, getting one behind your ear will hurt like shit.”

“Scary.” Jaskier rolled his eyes. “I assure you I’ve suffered worse. Got the scars to prove it.”

“Top surgery?” Lambert guessed.

“I don’t know. I’m kind of proud of those now.” He said. “Anyone gives me shit, I know you guys all have my back.”

“Damn right. I’ll make them match you.”

Jaskier choked down a laugh. “Are you threatening to cut someone’s tits off?”

“If that’s what it takes, that’s what it takes. I’ll cut, rip them off, and beat them upside their empty fuckin heads. Waste of good tiddy on a shit person.”

Jaskier felt a swell of affection. It caught him off guard, and he had to beat it back with a stick. Those were _feelings_ and ever since that livestream kiss, they were becoming Very Intrusive. Especially when Lambert said things that made Jaskier want to--

“Hey, Junebug.”

“Lambsteak?”

“You know we can all smell when you’re horny, right?”

“I… try to forget that. Is it that bad?”

“Distracting."

Jaskier paused. "I'm sorry?"

"You should get laid."

"Pfff. You're on a dry spell too, fuck off."

"We should _both_ get laid."

"You offering?" Jaskier joked.

Silence. "You couldn't handle me."

"I think it's the other way around." Jaskier rebutted.

Lambert _shivered_. Jaskier didn't notice.

Lambert didn't trust the direction he was going with this conversation. If Jaskier didn't get the hint, he didn't want to push it. So it was time to change tactics.

"So I listened to Vitriol." He started.

"Ugh. You too?"

"It reminded me of a few of my favorite songs."

"Are you… complimenting my song?"

"You already know I don't really have a leg to stand on, giving you hell about singing that folksy shit."

"Okay. So you liked my angsty breakup song. What about it?"

Lambert ran his face under the water, making unintelligible noises that made Jaskier smile. When he re-emerged with a clean face, he responded. "It reminds me of songs I like. So I want to share those with you."

Jaskier hummed. "Sounds good. How violent are they?"

"I… uh. Could sing one of them for you right now, if you like."

Jaskier looked over at Lambert's silhouette. Nikki's words came back to him.

_So has he gone soft, serenading you?_

"I'd like that, if you're up to it."

"Heh. Lots of parts of me are up to it." He responded, and Jaskier hitched a brow at his back, catching a glimpse of promise as Lambert turned around to rinse the shampoo from his hair.

A moment passed and Jaskier wondered if Lambert changed his mind. And then he cleared his throat and tentatively began.

Jaskier leaned over the edge of the tub and watched Lambert's form as he rubbed conditioner through his hair, his voice more solid with each note.

_**If we don't talk about it** _   
_**Then I won't sleep tonight at all** _   
_**If we don't reconcile it** _   
_**Then I won't dream** _   
_**If we don't simplify it** _   
_**And let the truth reveal itself** _   
_**Then we won't laugh about it** _   
_**And we won't heal** _

_**Because I won't run from myself now, anymore** _   
_**I won't comfort myself now, anymore** _   
_**I have nothing to hide** _   
_**But you can't see me naked** _   
_**I won't bleed on the floor now** _   
_**Here for you** _

_**If we don't rectify this** _   
_**Then I won't breathe tonight at all** _   
_**And yeah, I really want this** _   
_**I want to feel** _   
_**If you won't talk about this** _   
_**Then I can't be here anymore** _   
_**If we can't laugh about this** _   
_**I'll never heal** _

_**Because I won't run from myself now, anymore** _   
_**I won't comfort myself now, anymore** _   
_**I have nothing to hide** _   
_**But you can't see me naked** _   
_**I won't bleed on the floor now** _   
_**Here for you** _   
_**You** _

Lambert had turned off the water by the second chorus, letting his voice grow in the silence, egged on by the realization that he did have Jaskier's full attention.

He was still leaning half over the tub's ledge, one arm dangling, one holding up his head as he pointed another of those dopey-ass grins at Lambert.

He wasn't even looking at his cock, wow. He wasn't sure what to think of that.

Had anyone ever looked at him like that before?

It occurred to him that of all the times he'd ever performed, it hadn't felt like just now. On stage, he was a character, he was showing off. He hid behind the face of the man he wanted to be but never could.

Now, though, just like the song-- and his body, if we're being literal-- _here he was_. It wasn't even his song, but… this was a connection.

He swallowed down the feelings in his esophagus, willing them back into the pits of hell where they belonged. "Three words or less, all that." He managed.

Jaskier's smile was almost blinding. "I want more."

And, possibly for the first time in his life, Lambert ~~might have~~ blushed.

* * *

Nikki gestured to the door. "You hear that?"

"Be more specific. I'm hearing all sorts of awkward shit." Aiden said. "Got Geralt and Eskel screwing around on one side, got Lambert literally trying to serenade Jaskier on the other. I'm gonna need earplugs."

"Jealousy is an ugly look for you. Should I be serenading you?"

Aiden sighed. "As tempting as it would be to hear you sing something of Bryan Adams repertoire--"

"Yeah not that."

"Exactly. What would you sing me? My Chemical Romance?"

Nikki laughed, and then went on one knee to begin singing overdramatically. "Looooooong ago. Just like the hearse youuu died to--"

"I regret everything."

* * *

Geralt curled up in his bed and stared at the wall, knowing Eskel was on the other side of it, possibly looking right back. As kids, they'd moved their beds up against the shared wall. Sometimes they'd whisper to each other, or knock softly to wake the other up. Made the nightmares easier to bear.

They didn't always sleep in their own rooms anymore. Only when they really needed to sprawl out, without the noise of a pulse hammering through their heads.

It was the excuse he gave tonight.

It was true, he was having a bit of sensory overload, but it wasn't like usual. These were senses he couldn't plug up with incense or music or a wet towel over his eyes.

He was torn, and this time it was worse than when it was between Yennefer and Jaskier.

Yennefer couldn't be fooled. She read his mind. She knew how he felt, and that he was running from feelings. Displacing a huge chunk of them on her because it felt safer.

What really sealed it was when she read his mind during sex. It might as well have been over after that, but she still had tried to soldier on. Maybe out of pity. But she’d grown tired of pretending to be something she couldn’t be, and he didn’t begrudge her that.

Now he didn't have anyone to read his brain and _tell_ him what he was thinking. But he still couldn't run from it, couldn't ignore it.

He couldn't choose between Jaskier and Eskel. He loved them both. And he had no idea how to avoid losing them both. And even if he didn't lose Jaskier to Eskel, Lambert was there too. It was only a matter of time before Lambert's impulsive nature ended the ongoing war for Jaskier's attentions.

Everything was so confusing and hard and he just wanted it to all stop. He wanted them all to be happy. He wanted to not feel like this. _He just wanted to fucking sleep._

He forced his breathing to even out, used his age-old thought-stopping technique to quiet his traitor brain. And he more or less put himself into a meditative stance, curled up in his bed.

_Imagine how it will be next season on the bus._

His eyes shot open, calm shattered. He got up, still in only his gym shorts. He left his bedroom and headed to the kitchen. He just needed a drink.

A stiff drink.

* * *

It was morbid curiosity. That's all it was.

Jaskier had curled up on the couch, where he'd offered to sleep that night. It was huge and comfy, and he could turn the TV on and watch Lord of the Rings if he needed something in the background.

And then he'd begun thinking about what Aiden and Nikki said. The concept of having all three of them.

 _At once?_ He swallowed hard and pulled his phone from the plug on the coffee table.

Morbid curiosity.

Jaskier had never read fanfiction before. It had never occurred to him to look. But he knew from Vesemir that the band had a… _rabid_ fanbase.

 _I can understand he wouldn't want to read about his kids fucking. That would be awkward._ Jaskier mused. _But I might want to read that. Maybe._

To his shock, Vesemir was correct. Writers had already added him in. Apparently, they'd run with his stage name. They ran _far_.

"The Dandy Lion?" Jaskier laughed. "Why do I like that." He noted the tags without really understanding what they meant.

“What does _Dead dove - do not eat_ mean?” He wondered. Oh well, it would probably make sense at some point. He didn’t know what _Whump_ was supposed to mean either, but he could assume it was some sort of abbreviation. After he read this, maybe he’d check the tag for context, try to figure it out.

The epitome of bright eyed and bushy tailed, Jaskier settled into the couch and prayed he didn’t get too turned on, because everyone in the house except Nikki would smell it and that would be embarrassing.

_He needn’t have worried._

Morbid curiosity. With emphasis on _morbid_.

* * *

Geralt was halfway through a microwave burrito, mixing a screwdriver with a butter knife. That was when he realized Jaskier was awake.

He went closer to the living room. The reek of disgust and… “Are you okay?” He couldn’t figure out what was going on.

Jaskier’s face was paler than the moon when he peeked over the back of the couch at him, and Geralt approached softly. “What’s wrong?”

Jaskier had thrown his phone at some point. It now resided in the crevices of the recliner, barely poking from the crack, and Jaskier had no desire whatsoever to fish it out anytime soon. Maybe ever.

Jaskier looked up at Geralt, and then he smelled that acrid scent again. Disgust. And _shame_.

“What…” Geralt breathed.

“Can I have some alcohol too?” Jaskier whispered.

Geralt passed him his screwdriver. “Put on a movie, I’ll sit with you.”

“Thank you.” Jaskier said, taking a hearty gulp of the drink before reaching for the remote.

Geralt made another burrito for good measure. Two, after a thought. Maybe Jaskier would sleep better if he ate something. He reached in his memory for what Jaskier would like on one, searching the fridge. He couldn’t give him cheese unless he wanted Jaskier to spend all night on the shitter, but he knew Jaskier loved cheese anyway. He decided to put some on the side, let him make the choice himself.

Geralt sat down on the couch, offered the plate. Geralt worked on shoving his other burrito into his face as quietly as he could as the movie started up.

_Looks older. Not Tolkien._

"Princess Bride. Ever seen it?" Jaskier asked.

"No."

"I promise it's good."

"Hmm."

Jaskier waffled between watching the movie and watching Geralt watch the movie. He never reacted in big ways, but it was the little things, a quirk of his mouth, the knit of his brow.

Geralt's resting bitch face only intensified when his attention was fully occupied.

Jaskier almost jumped when Geralt grunted. _Was that supposed to be a laugh?_

"Is this an actual movie?"

"I mean. Yeah?"

"It's… it's like they don't know it's a comedy and they're playing it straight."

"I'm just amused that you squealed when you saw Andre the Giant would be in it."

"I did not." He argued.

" _Hmm_." Jaskier mocked.

Geralt grinned and rolled his eyes. "Your rudeness is _inconceivable_."

"You keep using that word. I don't think that it means what you think it means."

They'd all-but forgotten the movie by now, facing each other on the couch.

Geralt's eyes darted to Jaskier's mouth.

"Kiss me?" Jaskier breathed.

Geralt grunted a laugh. "As you wish."

Jaskier waited, the moments extending infuriatingly, until he was almost clawing himself up inside with anticipation. _Goddammit, you infuriating jackass, get on with it!_

It was the moment that those striking eyes flicked from his lips to meet his gaze that Jaskier’s impatience died, trapping his breath in his throat. The shift of his clothes dragging against the couch, as Jaskier’s fingers found purchase on the fabric, clenching to it to ground himself as it came into focus that he was about to finally hit pay dirt after being blueballed for weeks.

When Geralt’s drew close, Jaskier let his eyes flutter shut, but Geralt still hesitated, the briefest friction against his lips almost tickling, making his stomach clench as he tried to move closer, close the not-quite-distance between them. Geralt pulled back just enough, reflexes quick, his chuckle vibrating against his lips.

Jaskier was just about to sag, despondent, when Geralt surged forward, his kiss searing. Jaskier gasped, taken off guard, and sluggish to realize _oh, yes, it’s fucking happening now!_ As soon as he got his wits about him, he surged right back, hands no longer buried in the pill of the couch fabric, but clutching and shoving at Geralt’s shoulders.

His heart clenched, and a helpless noise climbed out of his throat. The chill outside seemed to climb into his bones like a fading memory, and as Geralt’s tongue swept into his mouth, Jaskier found himself letting Geralt pull him into his lap.

How far was he willing to let this go?

The bulge in Geralt’s sweatpants felt divine against his body, and he whined, seeking friction. Geralt’s teeth drug against his neck and he had to bite down on his own lip to silence the noise that almost escaped.

 _Let me just wake everyone up with the song of my people; Hello, everyone, I need to fuck_.

Geralt leaned back, sought Jaskier’s eyes. A silent search for approval. Concern warring with desire.

Jaskier’s phone dinged, and the overwhelming smell of Jaskier’s arousal turned immediately sour as his eyes lit on the screen.

“What’s wrong?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat as he recalled the story he’d found before Geralt came out. “Can you shatter my phone into a million pieces tomorrow? I don’t want to touch it ever again.”

“That seems an overreaction.”

Jaskier hitched his eyebrow at Geralt. Geralt looked back, and for a long moment was still and quiet. His mouth quirked just a bit at the corner as he tried to bite it into submission. They both began to laugh.

“Fine. I’ll put it on the wood block and chop it in quarters when I do the firewood tomorrow.” He finally said, butting his forehead against Jaskier’s.

“Thanks.” Jaskier said.

“You’re sure there’s nothing on there you can’t replace?”

Jaskier hummed in thought. “Can you take the SD card out, then? I have pictures of all of you.”

Geralt grunted in agreement. He breathed deeply, noting Jaskier’s scent mellowing out. “Did we miss anything with the movie?”

Jaskier finally looked over to the screen. “The main guy died, but other than that, no.”

“Wait, what?”

And so, as the movie rewound a bit, they settled in. Jaskier laid back down on the couch, Geralt behind him.

“You’re a fucking furnace.”

“At least you didn’t say I’m a steaming pile of shit this time.”

“It was _one time_ , Geralt.” Jaskier laughed.

“Hmm. Hush. Wanna see him die this time so we don’t have to rewind it again.”

Jaskier nudged his head backward, beating up against Geralt’s sternum.

 _Have to do Monty Python next time._ He thought before promptly passing out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow okay so im very tired, only had one day off because they made us work saturday again, prolly gonna do it again this week cause they're bastards. very tired. just finished the chapter off instead of leaving it at "they watch princess bride and make out?" because that's literally what my notes said. 
> 
> totally projecting my desire for affection and acceptance here. i would kill for a hug that doesn't turn into being humped into submission.
> 
> Also i'm sorry for the tease on Eskel/Geralt, but trust me we're gonna get it. It's just gonna be... spicy.
> 
> Usually I reply to last chapter's comments so that everyone knows when the next chapter has come out but i am exhausted and my partner is impatient. Must go to bed, but will fulfill my ritual in the morning. 
> 
> next chapter should be easier. it's mostly plot and smooching eskel.


	19. Gourd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gourd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a character by complete accident, more or less, and it fixed a couple plot holes and means I don't have to take a particularly angsty route later in the story.
> 
> Love him or hate him, this new character is definitely good for the story and he made the chapter funny to write.
> 
> The song at the start of this chapter is something I heard while exploring music in my suggested tab on youtube. I somehow had never heard this song, so it was doubly nice. It fits something later in the chapter almost perfectly. The video has closed captioning if you need them.

Breakfast was fun. The table was filled with smiling faces. And three werewolves eating almost as voraciously as Geralt, Eskel, and Lambert.

Aiden stabbed a sausage link on Nikki's plate while she wasn't looking and shoved it into his mouth. "Eskel, how much for a tattoo?"

Around a mouthful of mushroom gravy covered hash browns, he responded, "Whatcha want."

Jaskier perked up. He and Lambert met eyes across the table and Lambert almost snorted his coffee.

Aiden swallowed the sausage link mostly whole. "Nikki wants a full-back tattoo. Something floral and vibrant. I'm paying."

Eskel shook his head. "It would be an honor to do it. Buy the ink and I'll comp the rest."

"You're the best." Nikki smiled at him.

Eskel looked down, chewing the scar in his lip.

"I'm wanting a tattoo or two myself." Jaskier mentioned. "Might want to learn how to do it, too."

"Sounds fun. I'll get the kit out tonight and I'll show you the basics on my legs."

"Got any room on there?" Geralt teased, still feeling light. Waking up with Jaskier tucked against his chest made him feel years younger, and even though things-- so many things-- had changed, Geralt finally felt like the struggle had been worth it, just to wake up next to him again. Backache be damned.

Jaskier pulled a steno pad onto the table, rifling through his pockets for a pen. "Dinner table's for eating, kid." Vesemir said. "You can write later."

Jaskier flipped a couple pages up and showed everyone what was there. "I drew a few mockups of tattoos."

Lambert made a choking noise.

Aiden furrowed his brow as he squinted. "Barbie Gril?"

"Didn't have my coloring pencils, but the idea is still there."

Eskel stared at the designs. "What is ¼ supposed to mean?"

"The slash is a stream. Quarter Stream, my old band. That's the logo I designed."

Eskel motioned for the pad. "When did you do these?" He flipped through them cautiously, careful not to get gravy on it.

"Last night after the shower." He looked around at everyone. "Don't look at me like that. Eskel does better. I was just inspired."

"That I do better is debatable. I draft my ideas many, many times. You doodled these in a few hours." Eskel continued to flip through. "How many did you _draw_?"

"I… I was inspired." He repeated weakly.

"Mm." He showed one of the ideas to Nikki. "You said something floral?"

“Oh my god, that’s perfect.” She said.

Eskel hummed. “It is. I’ll have to order special ink… think it calls for some gold and silver for the linework.”

“Oooh, yes!” She squealed, before shoving an entire egg in her mouth.

Aiden not-so-subtly stole another sausage link from her plate. She tried to stab his hand but his reflexes were too quick. “That will look so striking against your skin.”

She let him take the sausage. “Ahh, I can’t wait.”

“Won’t it hurt?” Jaskier asked. “A full-back tattoo? Isn’t that painful?”

She laughed. “I’m going to sleep while he does it. The vibrations are calming.”

Jaskier looked like he was short-circuiting.

Aiden smiled but rolled his eyes. “At worst, for her, it feels like a sunburn. You’ll have to watch.”

Eskel grunted. “Actually, would you mind sketching the basic lines on her for me? I have a special pen for that. Be good practice, too.”

“When are we doing it?”

Eskel took his time chewing. “Depends. When is Yennefer getting here, Geralt?”

“Hmm? Oh. This evening. Probably.”

“Might try to break the curse, since it looks to be sloppily done. I’d prefer to wait for her, but I don’t want to waste too much time. If she doesn’t show up by sundown, I’m going to get to work on at least one of them.” Vesemir pointed at Lambert with his fork. “You’re going to help me take care of them.”

“Why me?”

“Everyone else will be busy.”

“What’s Geralt doing?”

“Considering that no one else is going to take care of the horses until the curse is resolved, I’d say he’ll be catching up with Roach… or go work on the bus.”

“I’ll feed the horses, get the stable somewhat cleaned, and then go for the bus. Permission to take the truck?”

“Strap your toolkit on and take a walk. If I see you _breathe_ in the direction of my truck for the next seventy years, I’ll brain you with the nearest blunt object.”

“That’s fair.” Geralt said.

“I should go with him, shouldn’t I?” Eskel asked, brow cinching in worry.

“Grocery shopping.” Vesemir said firmly. “You’re the cook.”

“How do you expect me to get to town?” He asked.

Geralt sighed. “Do you think you could take my bike and not die?”

“Hard to bring back groceries on a bike…”

Nikki shrugged. “How about… Eskel makes the list, and Aiden and I will go shopping?”

Jaskier saw eyes fall on him. Hesitantly, he spoke up. “What will I be doing?”

Vesemir hummed in thought. “When I go about breaking the curse, I’d prefer you be away in case you really are the trigger. In the meantime…”

“I can take care of him.” Eskel and Geralt said at the same time.

“There. Choose if you want to clean the house or the stables. One of them will direct you.”

Lambert rolled his eyes. “Until then, should I show him around?”

Vesemir sighed. “If you must. I’ll have to prepare some things for tonight.”

Jaskier had a weird feeling in his gut as he finally thought of something. "Wait." He looked at Aiden and Nikki. "What about the fourth werewolf? The one you hit with your car?"

Nikki and Aiden looked at each other and then at Vesemir. No words were spoken. They all went back to eating.

"Uh? I'm not sure why no one wants to tell me why one of the werewolves isn't as important, since it was fucking huge and terrifying."

The distinct honking of the bus's horn roused everyone. "That's why." Vesemir sighed.

"What?" Jaskier breathed.

"Gourd." Everyone said in unison, disinterested.

"...Gourd." Jaskier repeated. Everyone shoved one last bite into their mouths before getting up and going to the front door, Jaskier trailing after them.

Out front, the huge werewolf had strapped himself to the bus and had _dragged_ it all the way to the ranch.

Jaskier met the eyes of the hulking creature and flinched back, colliding with Eskel's bulk. "He was raised by rock trolls. Met Coen when he was in law school, brought him home because he needed a job. He's… Suited for physical labor."

"I can fucking see that." Jaskier managed.

The werewolf shucked his binds and loped toward the porch. "G'mornin." He roared.

"Gourd." Everyone said in unison, still just as bored as they were five minutes ago.

"Why can he talk when none of the others can?" Jaskier asked.

Lambert snorted. "Gourd, how many times have you been cursed? This year alone."

" _This_ year?" Gourd looked constipated. Held up three fingers. "This many. Maybe."

"How do… why?" Jaskier looked at him, trying to see some sign, some kind of explanation for why everyone seemed to dislike him.

Gourd cocked his head. "Witch-people are funny. They offer me money to do things they didn't need me to do. Then they try to touch my pengi."

Jaskier choked, his words coming out in a strangled yell. "Your _what_?"

"Y'know. Pengi." He made a weird gesture.

"His _penis_ , Jaskier. Graduates are fascinated with his penis." Vesemir sighed.

"So… why do they curse you if they're after your… your pengi?" Jaskier tried to keep a straight face but it was getting harder by the second.

Gourd rolled his fuzzy shoulders. "They didn't ask. So I wreck their shit. I have rights."

Geralt motioned to the bus. "Gourd, you forgot to take it out of neutral. It's rolling toward the house. Could you get it to the garage for me?"

"I'm tired. But yes, for you."

Vesemir sighed. "I suppose this is all a good thing. We can interrogate Gourd for details on who did this until Yennefer gets here."

Lambert groaned. "Don't make me do that, you old cunt."

"What's wrong with him? He doesn't seem that bad to me!" Jaskier said.

Lambert huffed. "He tries to court us every year. He doesn't like Graduates because they're scrawny, he says." Lambert smiled at Jaskier wickedly. " _You_ should be safe."

Jaskier briefly debated whether he should be offended by that, but ultimately decided on a course of action. "If he starts trying to court you, I'll intercept."

Lambert hitched an eyebrow. "Okay? Dunno what _you_ will do about it, but I'm excited to see you try."

* * *

Gourd's return changed some things, but not as much as Jaskier had expected. Vesemir and Lambert were busy preparing the place for this many (large) bodies. Cleaning and rearranging furniture was fairly quick and easy.

Eskel had catalogued what he needed in the kitchen, as well as a few extra treats he'd like to make, and sent Aiden and Nikki on a run. The trip to and from town would take a hefty span of the day.

Geralt had retreated to the garage, began blaring what Lambert complained was _his_ Alice in Chains greatest hits CD. Gourd came in to bathe and talk at length with Jaskier, who was just trying to listen to the songs Nikki was sending him.

Which meant that if anyone noticed Eskel was missing, they never said a word.

* * *

The smell of the garage always made Eskel happy. It had good emotions attached to it.

Now, though, as he watched Geralt climbing in and out of the bus's shelll, he felt something like dread chew at the pit of his stomach. He grabbed a wrench and handed it up to Geralt.

Geralt took it, and there was a moment where their eyes lingered on each other, a conversation that neither understood but auto-translated to fit the narrative in their own heads.

Geralt had already stripped out of his shirt, and the smears of hard work were already finding their way onto his skin and into his hair, pulled back in a tight bun.

 _Speaking of tight buns though_... Watching Geralt lean into the guts of the bus was enough teasing after the denial last night.

"I'll give you more than the wrench, you know." Eskel joked.

"Hmm." Geralt looked around. "Shop-towel?"

Eskel sighed. "Quit acting stupid, Geralt. Look at me." Eskel’s joking mood died as he noted the shift in Geralt’s eyes. He felt his own face steel, felt the lovely weight of solemnity settle over him as he bit the corner of his lip and tried to figure out what he’d done wrong.

Geralt's brow pinched, his jaw worked. "What I want you to give… it feels unfair to ask."

"Geralt, I will always give you everything you ask." Eskel growled. "I will never stop."

"That's why it's unfair." Geralt breathed. "I want you. I… I _need_ you."

"But?"

Geralt exhaled, turning and leaning against the bus. "We both have our eyes set outward from each other."

Eskel bit his cheek. "I'm unsure what you mean."

"You love Jaskier. I love him too." The silence drew on. Geralt licked his lips and stepped away from the bus, closer to Eskel.

He had to close this divide now, or it would swallow him up forever.

"But I can't choose between the two of you. I can't do it." Geralt admitted, as if he were telling a secret. It was in those eyes, the quiet desperation to make him understand. The hint of despair he was barely staving off.

Eskel looked off to the side, away from those eyes. "You find your way into this situation, time and time again."

"You were always there for me, Eskel. And I didn't know how to say it to you. Or myself."

He wouldn't look at Geralt. Geralt felt his chest begin to clench.

"Please look at me." He said. "I love you."

The silence stretched, each second another unending agony painting itself upon Geralt.

Geralt must have been right. He was too late. His words meant nothing now. "I'm sorry." He said, turning away with the wrench slack in his grip. "Just because I can't choose doesn't mean no one else can. I can accept that." He took a steadying breath. "Thank you for hearing me."

Eskel's hands were firm, Geralt had seen them dwarf someone's head. He'd memorized the pattern of callouses there, but it was as if now they reached deeper and pulled something from within him.

Those hands lit on Geralt's hips, a warning before the rest of Eskel's broad warmth met Geralt's back. "I…" Eskel's brain wasn't working right. His eyes stung. So he just stood there, holding Geralt as Alice in Chains crooned about the Rooster.

 _I've loved you for so long. I thought you never knew_. Eskel couldn't pick out what to say, his brain a confusing mash of emotional overflow.

"I don't think I could have chosen either." Eskel whispered. "But I never thought I would ever have you. Not like this."

"So… what does this mean?" Geralt tried to ask, Eskel's lips lighting on the curve of his neck.

"It means we'll discuss it more later. I'm going to take you apart until the CD stops playing."

"It's… it's on loop." Geralt managed.

Eskel grinned. "I know."

And perhaps neither of them wanted the other to see their face for now. They’d been dancing around the emotions, the desire for so long, lingering on the surface as if they were afraid to drown. The feeling of nakedness, of vulnerability, was never something they truly accepted. They never needed words, but that meant that, usually, they could read each other so clearly.

That final wall had caved. The final declaration made. To see each other now would be like the first time.

Perhaps they both understood that, and needed a different kind of rawness.

* * *

“Did you want to hear that song they’re working on?” Nikki asked, turning the stereo down.

“Which one? _Doom and Gloom_ or _Gloom and Doom_?”

“ _My Demons_ , they called it…” She looked at her nails and the immaculate hot pink paint. “Remind me to buy some of those little rhinestones for my nails. I wanna look like a Death Metal Barbie.”

Aiden took her other hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “You already do.” He sighed deeply. “Okay. So what about the song?”

She clapped her hands and bounced. “Okay! So!” She grinned. “Jaskier was sweet enough to send me the working track. I have… admittedly… destroyed my ability to replay it because I just. I fuckin love it.”

“Nothing new. How much screaming is in it?”

“None. Which is why I asked if you want to hear it.”

“And Lambert wrote it?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Jaskier didn’t say. I… may have suspicions.”

There was a pause. “It’s one of his songs about Coen?”

“That’s what I was thinking about. I don’t think it is.”

“Hm. So… he’s… writing love songs and passing them off as grief songs?”

Nikki sighed and put the song on. “I think Lambert is just as emotionally constipated as everyone else in that fucking family, and the only way he can take the feelings-dump he so desperately needs is through music. It helped him with Coen, and… Well, it certainly has good effect here.”

“Well, as much as I love to dissect the emotional diarrhea of my friend and former crush, there’s a line that needs to be crossed, you know.”

“I think I might know how to help turn the square inside out. So to speak.” She said. “If you’re willing to help.”

“Not really, but… honestly what else am I going to do this winter?”

“As to that former crush remark. Liar.” She stuck her tongue out at him. “You’d jump him given half a chance.”

“It would be awkward. I dated his brother. He doesn’t even know about that.” Aiden’s brow creased. “I think.”

Nikki leaned dramatically against the window. “Oh, what tragedy, setting up a polyamorous relationship between our friends that you totally wouldn’t be able to interact with. Literally, their family dynamic is so weird I don’t know why you’re put off by the whole ‘they were brothers’ bit. Eskel and Geralt get on just fine without all that shit.”

“Did you breathe at all just then?”

“You’ll never know.”

“Please turn the radio back on after this song.”

“You’re going to restart Coen’s mix again?”

“Yes. As many times as I please. It makes me feel close to him.”

Nikki looked over at him. This time she took his hand and kissed it. “That’s why we came.”

“No.” He sighed. “No… it’s not.”

They came here to resume an old fight.

“Okay, I’ll put his playlist back on.” She said, voice softer. “It makes me feel closer to him, too.”

She made her best approximation of where they left off, clicking something that looked promising. Something about it looked familiar, but she just chalked it up to having heard it fifty times on the way to Kaer Morhen.

Their live stuff was better. Nikki had traded a concert for a concert, seeing this little band about a year before he died. In return, he'd agreed to go see Lamb of God with her for her birthday.

She could remember the concert, remember Coen's eyes shining as he enjoyed the little folksy band.

Even if it wasn't her scene, Nikki loved that look. She'd wanted to protect it.

Now, she clutched tighter to Aiden's hand, her throat catching on the memory.

"We haven't failed yet." Aiden murmured, as if reading her mind. "We can still protect him."

Nikki exhaled slowly, determined not to cry and fuck up her mascara. "I know, baby. I know."

* * *

"You're a funny little man." Gourd said.

"Thank you." Jaskier answered, eyes searching as subtly as they could for what everyone else was doing. Vesemir and Lambert were busy, Geralt and Eskel still hadn't appeared since breakfast, and Nikki and Aiden would be gone for another hour, probably. Unless Nikki drove, but no one wanted that.

"The others like funny." He seemed to be going for subtlety too. "I can't be funny."

"Nothing wrong with that."

"I want to make my boyfriends laugh."

"Oh. You have boyfriends? Plural?"

"Mm. If I make them laugh, maybe they'll stop saying no." He grumbled. "How do you make them laugh." Gourd asked, no inflection whatsoever.

Jaskier noted he was corralled in. Between Gourd's hulking mass and the walls, he was more or less trapped in this conversation. "I. Um. Sometimes there's more to it than making someone laugh."

"The smelly creepy lady says you get lots of boyfriends."

"You say that as if I know who smelly creepy lady is."

"Eyes like flowers and mouth like poison." Gourd imparts.

"Oh. Her. Yennefer."

"Smelly creepy lady." Gourd agreed.

It finally hit him. "Is she the one who curses you so often?"

Gourd shrugged. "She doesn't try to touch my pengi."

Jaskier couldn't help it. He laughed.

"Mm. The funny man thinks I'm funny." He came in closer, and Jaskier's laugh died quickly. "You smell nice."

"And you are still very furry and intimidating."

Gourd growled, looming over him. "You can be my boyfriend, too."

Jaskier squeaked. He eyed the doors, praying someone would come save him. "I am flattered but I really don't know if I--"

"Jaskier! Could you come help me in the kitchen please?" Eskel's voice reached him.

Gourd saw the relief on Jaskier's face and let him past, licking his lips a bit as he stared after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't have the energy to write the sex scene, sorry guys. 
> 
> Posting this from my phone while on lunch.
> 
> Still not getting hero's pay, they were doing a deal where they give us like a dollar extra per hour of overtime but now that's over and they're going to make us do more Saturdays again since it'll be cheaper now.
> 
> Going to save up my money if possible and start my online business. Can't exactly advertise on here, not with links, but I might mention it again when I get my page up.


End file.
